The Wolf with the Red Ribbon
by G4M3R
Summary: DA2. Novelization of a play through with new twists, Varric-like embellishments, and rich description. FemHawkexFenris. Rated M for upcoming adult content and harsh language.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_ The Blight, an army of twisted, misshapen, specters of demonically possessed men, had destroyed Lothering, a city in Southern Ferelden, a few months ago. The Hawke family (consisting of mother Leandra and her two daughters, Aria and Bethany), plus one refugee soldier named after the legendary Orlesian woman Knight Aveline, docked in the port of the city Kirkwall, in the lowly, poverty stricken area not affectionately known as the Gallows. After a deal is struck by the Hawkes' slippery gambler of an uncle, Gamlen Amell, the Hawkes and the soldier tagalong spend a year in indentured servitude under the command of the elven smuggler, Athenril. Our story begins after the Hawkes have been in Kirkwall for a year, having fulfilled their terms with Athenril, and with a fortuitous meeting between the glib, charming, and surprisingly beardless dwarven merchant prince, Varric Tethras, and the rising star of Kirkwall; a silver-haired, alabaster-skinned, tawny-eyed Aria Hawke. Aria and her sister, the apostate mage, Bethany, had just been denied the chance to climb aboard the expedition one Bartrand Tethras was planning to enter the Deep Roads. It was their best chance at reclaiming the Amell's nobility and securing their rightful place in the mage-hating metropolis of Kirkwall._

The strawberry-blond dwarf hailed Aria Hawke, introducing himself as he tossed her missing coin purse to her, a charming smile lighting his lips. The cut purse who had snatched it from Aria took this chance to escape. The dwarf sauntered over to them, his eyes benevolent. Bethany stepped behind Aria, years of evading strangers for fear of discovery coming into practice.

"Varric Tethras, at your service. I apologize for Bartrand," the dwarf said as he reached them. "He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

Aria eyed him warily, taking in every detail of his appearance and paying special attention to the skin around his eyes—the subtle expression changes there were tells of a person's true intent, especially should that intent not match their spoken words. If she had learned only one thing about this city in the year she'd spent here, it was that no one offered aid unless there was a catch. A gigantic, razor sharp, multi-hooked catch.

"But you would?" Aria cautiously asked, a hint of sarcasm seeping into her tone. She sardonically arched a silvery brow, sizing him up.

"I would," Varric replied congenially, a dash of laughter in his voice. He smiled and inclined his head, looking back at where his brother stood arguing with another dwarf. "What my brother doesn't know is that we need someone like you," he continued, and she felt in her gut he was being sincere. "He would never admit it either—he's too proud. I, however, am quite practical."

Aria figured she'd take a bite out of the bait he was offering. "You're part of Bartrand's venture?" she tentatively asked, crossing her arms over her chest and staring impassively down at the dwarf.

"That's right!" he smoothly stated. "The Deep Roads wouldn't normally be my thing, but I can't allow the head of our family to go down there alone." He shifted his posture a little, making Aria slightly nervous. "So as you might imagine, I have more than a passing interest in this expedition's success."

The elder Hawke was still suspicious. Aria needed to feel this Varric character out a little more before she was going to put any stock in his claims.

"What makes you so certain we can help?" Aria hedged. "You know nothing about us."

Varric smiled all too knowingly and it did nothing to soothe Aria's singing nerves. "Oh, on the contrary—you've made quite a name for yourself over the last year. The Coterie has been squeezing smugglers out left and right, and the only group to survive owes it all to you two. The name Hawke is on many lips these days. Not bad for a Fereldan fresh off the boat."

"You must have heard of my sister as well, then," Aria stated, seeking to ferret out what other information the dwarf had on them.

"Only a little," Varric allowed, his delivery cautious. "She is certainly welcome to come, but I'll leave that up to you."

"Frankly, I'd rather you take the credit," Bethany quickly said, casting a wary glance at her sister.

"Madam! Your secrets are safe with me," Varric was quick to allay their growing concern. It was clear that he meant them no harm.

"Find out what he's offering," Bethany said under her breath so that only Aria would hear. "We need a way into this expedition."

Aria turned to the dwarf again, nodding her agreement with her sister. "You're going awfully far out of your way just to hire another guard," she said after a moment.

"We don't need another hireling—we need a partner," Varric said, motioning for them to follow him over to the alley so that eavesdroppers would be less likely to drop on this conversation. "The truth is, Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to fund this thing on his own but he can't do it," he softly told them once they were in the alley. "Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns, and he can't refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you."

"Why would you stick your neck out for a complete stranger?" Aria asked, folding her arms over her chest once more and quirking a brow.

"I'd rather take a chance on someone with your reputation than head into the Deep Roads unprepared. And besides, we'd be your partners," Varric answered, his expression earnest. He sighed, pinching his wide chin between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers were long, for a dwarf. "I'm willing to give a little trust if you are," he said at last.

Aria hadn't gotten this far in life without being able to judge people's motives. The last words he spoke were exactly what she needed to hear in order to partake in this gamble he offered. It was her turn to sigh.

"I hope there's more to this. Like how I am supposed to get that much coin together," she finally said.

A wide grin split Varric's rather handsome face. "You need to think big!" he said, spreading his arms and looking to the sky. "There's only a brief window after a Blight when the Deep Roads won't be crawling with darkspawn. The treasure you find down there could set you and your family up for life!"

Aria looked to Bethany, wondering if she was thinking the same thing. They both hated having to live with Gamlen in the old Lowtown slums. Mother deserved much better than that after all they'd endured. It weighed heavily on her mind.

"It won't be easy, but it's a chance," Bethany cautiously said, her eyes pleading. "I think we have to take it. Better to work our way into the expedition than sit around waiting to be thrown into the Gallows."

Yes, there was that. Poor Bethany had so much to fear. Aria did not like the choices they were given. Deep Roads or the iron fist of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi. Why had everything become so Maker-damned bleak all of the sudden?

"We work together, you and I, and before you know it, you'll have all the capital you need," Varric chimed then, seeing that he was finally gaining ground with this recalcitrant potential business partner. "What do you say?"

Aria looked to Bethany again, whose eyes pleaded with her. She smiled broadly and turned to look out at the alley. "It's not like I had anything better planned."

Varric laughed. "Perfect! Kirkwall's crawling with work. You set aside some coin from every job, and you'll have the money in no time," he gushed.

"Maybe Aveline can find us some work. She's got a position with the city guard now," Bethany suggested, hooking her arm in Aria's.

"We should talk privately when you get the chance," Varric said, walking with them back out into the square. "In the Hanged Man, maybe—I'll be there when I'm not with you. Now, let's go see what trouble we can stir up."

Despite her reservations about the dwarf, Aria couldn't help but like him. He was charming, suave, but honest. It was a rare combination. He was gifted with his words. She just hoped he was as gifted with that crossbow he carried on his back as he was with his words. She had a feeling they would need it.


	2. Chapter ONE

**Chapter One**

It was hardly past noon when they finished speaking. Aria felt her spirits lifting. If they could just get the coin together, they'd be well on their way to righting the wrongs Gamlen had done in their mother's absence. They parted ways for the day, Aria explaining the need to talk this over with their matriarch before making any more headway on the matter.

"You aren't really going to tell Mother, are you?" Bethany said as the dwarf walked away in the direction of the Hanged Man.

"No. Although we really need to think this out. I have no doubt that Varric's intent is honest. But I don't know how far we can trust him. And we've got his brother to worry about. I don't like Bartrand."

"Oh come now, sister!" Bethany laughed. "You can't tell me you aren't just absolutely tickled about this turn of events!"

Aria smiled wickedly. "Tickled? Bethany—that sounds…dirty."

"You know what I mean," she said, rolling her eyes. "I understand you don't like not being the mastermind, but I'm sure you'll outfox them if they try to take advantage of us."

"That's not really what worries me," Aria seriously stated, all humor aside.

"Then what?"

"I don't want to take a chance at you being seized by the templars. Think of what that would do to Mother," the elder Hawke said, genuinely worried.

"Aria, I am more likely to be seized if I don't go," Bethany softly replied.

They had reached the steps leading up to Gamlen's filthy little hovel. Aria sighed. Her sister was of course, right. Now that they were back at Gamlen's, Aria didn't want to go inside. Bethany squeezed her arm reassuringly. Together, they walked up the steps and into the house.

"My children have been in servitude—_servitude_!—for a year!" the Hawke matriarch shouted as Bethany and Aria entered the door.

The sisters shot each other worried looks. Aria rolled her eyes in exasperation and walked up behind her mother. Gamlen and their mother had been at each other's throats lately, now that Bethany and Aria were done serving their time as smugglers under the employ of Athenril. They both had blood on their hands now, but at least it wasn't innocent blood.

"They should be nobility!" Leandra Amell-Hawke spat at her worthless brother.

"If wishes were poppy, we'd all be dreaming," Gamlen snidely replied.

Aria's lips turned up in her trademark sardonic smirk. "You mean, this is real?" she said, spinning around, her arms wide for effect. "No wonder I can't wake up."

Gamlen sneered at her. "And here I thought that Fereldan you ran off with was a mage, not a jester," he directed at Leandra, then turned to face Aria. "Your mother was supposed to marry the Comte de Launcet, and instead she ran off with some Fereldan apostate! You don't get to stay the favorite when you do that," he sniped.

"Where is Father's Will?" Leandra pleaded with her brother. "If I could just see for myself—"

"It's not here, all right?" Gamlen sniveled, cutting her off. "It was read, it went into the vault. No one needed to look at it again."

Aria stepped forward, sensing the fact that he was hiding something. It was definitely a big something. "That touched a nerve," she quipped, tawny eyes flashing. "What's in there that you don't want us to see?"

The barb worked. "Nothing!" Gamlen defensively shouted, glaring at her like a cornered animal. "But you won't be seeing the bloody thing. It's still locked up on the estate. And that's long out of my hands."

"You didn't take your parents' Will?" Bethany incredulously asked, her soft dark eyes wide with hurt.

"It was old news," Gamlen resignedly said. "You think I've been sitting here for twenty-five years waiting for Leandra to slink back?"

"Who bought the estate, Gamlen?" Leandra pleaded. "Perhaps I could speak with them. Was it the Reinhardts?"

Gamlen sneered at her again. "No one you know. Get used to Lowtown, Sister. That's where we're going to stay."

Bethany motioned to Aria and together they walked into the broom closet that served as their room. Bethany quickly closed the door and went over to the bunk bed they shared. She sat on the bottom bunk with a soft "hmph".

"So, I hate thinking badly of family, but… Did Uncle Gamlen seem a little slippery when he talked about Grandfather's Will?" she whispered after a moment. "If he say, 'invested' money that was meant to be Mother's, do you think he would tell us?"

Aria snorted. "We are talking about the same weasel, aren't we?"

Bethany moaned in trepidation.

"I want what's ours," Aria said after they'd brooded silently together for a few moments.

"Good," Bethany agreed. "I'm glad we agree. Gamlen told me he gave the estate as payment to some slaver who beat him at dice."

"He lost the mansion over a stupid game of dice? Maker help me, he's a bigger moron than I thought," Aria interjected, throwing her hands in the air and cursing at the ceiling.

"Just listen, Aria. Apparently our ancestral home is now a base for slavers from all over Thedas."

Aria laughed bitterly. "Oh, Gamlen couldn't have just sold himself and saved us all the trouble?"

Bethany giggled. "Are we talking about the same person? I mean, can you just imagine him sweeping and scrubbing floors for some Tevinter matriarch?"

They both burst into fits of giggles, sniggering at the image Bethany had called forth to their minds. It was a pleasant image. One that they both wished could come true at the moment. Hard labour was something Gamlen would never partake.

"Seriously though," Bethany continued after they'd stopped giggling. "Those scum have no right to our family's things. We should break in there, get the Will for Mother. I already talked to both of them about this. Gamlen said they guard the front entrance well. But Mother gave me her old key. She said it should unlock the cellar. Apparently, the sewers run right beneath the house."

"You've been a busy girl. Where was I?" Aria sarcastically asked, taking and examining the key Bethany held up for her.

"I think we should go tonight. Maybe even get Aveline in on it," Bethany suggested.

"Eh, it's worth a shot. Wicked Grace can wait I suppose. We need to speak with the cantankerous ginger anyhow," Aria agreed. "I don't know if we can do it tonight, but we'll definitely do it."

"You know she hates it when you call her that," Bethany twittered, snatching up her staff from where it had fallen onto the bed.

"And it only makes me that much more determined to call her that. Let's go. If I stay here any longer, I'm going to have Gamlen stuffed and mounted. And it won't be in any pose that could be remotely construed as dignified," Aria replied.

They left the house, Aria casting Gamlen a venomous glare before closing the door. She didn't care to stick around for the diatribe he launched at the closed door. She had had about enough of that weasel. He was greasier than a choleric dwarf's backside.

They walked past the Hanged Man and Aria decided to pay Varric a visit on her way up to Hightown. Bethany decided to stay outside, having an aversion to places where gossips ran amok, completely unchecked. It was only natural at this point.

Aria went to the bartender. "Where might I find Varric, serah?"

"Haven't seen you in here often, Hawke," the bartender said. "Name's Corff."

"Well, I can see anonymity is not something I can readily employ here," Aria jested, shaking the hand Corff extended. "Pleasure."

"It's all mine," Corff replied, going back to wiping out a glass. He set it on the bar. "Varric is over there. You walked right past him."

Aria turned to see where Corff indicated. Varric was grinning and shaking his head. She turned back to Corff. "Hit me with a pint, would you?" she said, putting down three coppers.

Corff handed her a tankard and she walked over to where Varric sat, still shaking his head. She grinned and slammed the tankard down, sitting across from him.

"I hope you're not so blind on all your endeavors," Varric laughed.

"Well, one cannot fault me for not seeing someone so short of stature," Aria replied, quirking one eyebrow playfully and taking a long draught from her mead.

Varric guffawed loudly. "A quick sense of humor. Have to respect that," he cajoled, offering her the rim of his glass.

She clinked hers against his and they both took impressive draws.

"So, here's the thing," he said, swiping at his top lip. "We need to find a way into the Deep Roads. Bartrand can lead us to the right place once we're down there, but we need a good entrance."

Aria sat back in her chair. "Any entrance will do, wouldn't it? Unless a dragon's sitting in it, I suppose."

Varric chuckled warmly. "We need an entrance that's close to our destination but isn't already plundered or filled with darkspawn. Fortunately, I've received some new information. There's a Grey Warden in the city. If anyone knows how to get down there, it'll be him."

She sighed heavily. "Are there any other options?"

Varric also sighed. "None at the moment. Bartrand had an entrance lined up, but it was a bust," he said, drinking from his pint. Aria also took a drink, surprised with how quickly she'd already drained it. "I'll keep looking, but if we don't find something, we'll have a fancy expedition with nowhere to go," he continued, standing.

Aria followed suit, finishing her pint. "Sounds like you have it all planned," she replied with a glib grin.

Varric bowed frivolously. "And that, messere, is why I'm here. Supposedly, this Grey Warden came in with some other Fereldan refugees not long ago. A Lowtown woman named Lirene has been helping the Fereldans. We talk to her, maybe we learn where he is. I'll keep after my contacts—see if I can drum up any other work."

"Mmm," Aria said, licking the last of the mead from her lips. "In the meantime, come with me. Bethany and I were on our way to pay Aveline a little visit—see if she has something for us."

"I knew I picked you for a reason," he chuckled, leaving a few coppers on the table for a tip.

They walked outside together and Bethany materialized from one of the nooks surrounding the Hanged Man. She smiled at Varric, who bowed and returned the smile. They headed up the steps leading towards Hightown together.

"You don't seem to like your brother very much," Bethany said as they began the ascent.

Varric chuckled wryly. "And here I thought it took blood magic to read minds."

"I had a twin brother, Carver. He used to nail my braid to the bed while I was sleeping. I never thought I'd miss him this much."

"Sorry about your brother," Varric replied, his inflection earnest. He smiled broadly, as though a pleasant thought occurred to him. "Hey, you want mine? I've got a spare…"

Bethany only chuckled.

"So this Aveline—she's a guardsman?" Varric asked as they passed the Hightown merchants.

Bethany laughed. "Call her that instead of the proper 'guardswoman', and she might knock a few inches off your height."

Varric winced theatrically. "What is it with your family's preoccupation with height?"

The mage turned and looked at her sister, her face aghast with horror. "You didn't!"

"He asked for it," Aria playfully shot back, clapping Varric on the shoulder in a friendly gesture.

Varric laughed. "No hard feelings. If you can't find anything better to joke about concerning dwarves, it's not really an insult to me."

Aria burst out laughing. "Ah, Varric. We'll get along just fine, you and I."

He grinned back at her. "Madam, I certainly agree."

They walked up to the Viscount's Keep, bouncing ideas for work off each other until they reached the Guards' quarters. Once inside, Aria looked for Aveline, finding the tall, lanky, red-headed woman standing in front of the duty roster. She was looking over patrols and seemed relatively oblivious.

"Aveline!" Aria announced herself, throwing her arms wide as though she expected to receive a hero's welcome.

"Hello, Hawke," Aveline replied without turning around.

"That's it?" Aria asked, feigning hurt.

"What?" Aveline asked distractedly, turning to face her. "Oh, right. Sorry, it feels like we just talked. I've been keeping an eye on you," she accusingly stated. "Information is one of the few perks of this job. Watch out for Bartrand. He's a son-of-a-bitch."

Aria crossed her arms over her chest and mock glared at her comrade. "You know, I can take care of myself without your hovering."

Aveline regarded her as though she was tired of dealing with her Fereldan fellow. "Saved me camping on your doorstep. After what we went through to get here…" she trailed off, a slight tremor running through her at the particularly distasteful memory. "I… Well… You're no child, but I take care of my friends. The places they have me patrolling, I've got time."

Aria smiled mischievously. "A person in your position seems like they might learn some profitable things."

Aveline exasperatedly sighed. "You know better than to ask that."

Aria's grin widened. "One day, you'll be frustrated enough to go for it." She knew Aveline. Idleness did not suit the busy-bodied, hard-nosed woman.

"It's like I'm sitting on my hands," she gushed, pacing in front of Aria, her expression vexed. "There are dangerous people in this city," she continued. "In fact, I might have a job for you. Let me know if you want to do a favor for Kirkwall. Otherwise, I'm here if you need me. Maker knows I could use more satisfying work."

Aria leaned against the wall and studied the warrioress for a moment. "Seems like Kirkwall suits you," she said.

"It has been a challenge. Lots of opportunity… If you're the type the locals want."

"Are you?" Aria challenged.

Aveline sighed, further evidence of her growing disquiet. "If you argue enough, you kind of convince yourself."

"If you have to convince yourself, you're kind of missing the point aren't you?"

"Hawke, what else could I do here that is within the arm of the law? I'm not a criminal like some people." She glared pointedly at both Aria and Varric. Varric feigned a wound to his heart but said nothing. He would have made an excellent diplomat.

Aria laughed. "I'm insulted. I'm not a criminal. There's nothing wrong with going where the work is, so long as no one gets killed in the process. And if they do, well—that's one less miscreant _you_ will have to worry about."

At this, Aveline chuckled. "You have always been so tricksy."

"Is it really that bad here?" Aria pressed. "This must be a very different pace from serving King Cailan."

"I loved that life," Aveline sadly allowed. "But there's a new King for a new Ferelden. Seems cocksure, but I guess he was there when the Archdemon fell. Can't fault an active hand."

Aria nodded her agreement.

"It's just one more change though," Aveline continued, unprodded. "The real end for me was Ostagar. You and Carver must have felt something similar." She checked Aria's expression, then apologetically added, "I don't know if that's right to say. I hardly knew him."

"Death on that scale…" Aria began, her tone much more somber than was the norm, "It certainly has a finality to it."

Aveline shook her head slightly. "Sometimes I wonder."

Aria sighed, not wanting to talk about it. Carver, Lothering… She didn't do so well dealing with pain of that magnitude. She sought a subject change, surmising that Aveline was experiencing the same discomfort.

"It's been a year settling in. Are you…all right?" Aria tested the waters.

"You don't need to coddle me. I am where I am. How close I hold my memories is my own business," she quipped.

Aria smiled sympathetically. "All right, Aveline. You have something worth doing?"

Aveline's expression darkened for a minute, then as she pondered Aria's question, she spoke. "My patrols may be empty walks in the dark, but there's something big coming up, and I could use you."

"Something big? Sounds right up our alley," Varric interjected.

Aveline pointedly ignored him and spoke to Aria. "An ambush. Probably for a caravan, although I can't find any shipments that match up. Doesn't matter though. Highwaymen waiting for someone to rob? I'm putting a stop to it, my district or not."

Aria smiled. This was the Aveline she knew and loved. "Well then. I'm in."

Aveline grinned broadly. "I knew I could count on you! They're hidden up Sundermount," she continued, relaying the details of their upcoming adventure. "Remote and rough, but we can make good time with a shortcut this side. And no, you can't run off and do it without me," she admonished.

Aria just smirked. Her friend knew her all too well.

"I trust you," she continued apologetically. "But I have to be there. You're acting on behalf of the guard."

"Well, let's get started then," Aria said, shrugging and looking towards the door.


	3. Chapter TWO

**Chapter Two**

The shortcut up Sundermount was not exactly what one could call easy going. It wasn't that Aria couldn't handle it. She was just in an ill-temper. It seemed that in this day alone, she'd had her whole world turned upside down. That wasn't exactly a bad thing either—the opposite of her position now was far preferable. Opposite of poor? Rich. Opposite of unknown? Famous—or infamous, but she was quite alright with that. Opposite of pissed-on Fereldan doglord refugee? Respected Kirkwall citizen. What she didn't like was traipsing around in the wilderness while she could be finding other paying work. This didn't seem to be the kind of thing that led to much coin.

"You're uncharacteristically quiet, Hawke. That bothers me," Aveline said, pulling Aria up over a particularly steep part of the mountain trail.

"Just thinking," Aria absentmindedly stated, her eyes going to Bethany, checking that her sister was ok.

"That's what worries me," Aveline groused, leading the way down a much more palatable path.

"I'm not plotting. There's a difference between thinking and plotting," Aria replied.

"Well, that makes all the difference," Aveline snidely commented. "We're getting close. Weapons at the ready."

Aria drew her daggers from their sheaths on her back and lithely swung some complicated kata with them before ceasing and holding at the ready. They rounded the next bend and surely enough, there stood the aforementioned highwaymen, prepared to loot and plunder the next hapless soul to cross their paths.

Except, this group of four souls was far beyond hapless. Aria tugged the little flask that hung at her belt. Her combat expertise could be classified as a rogue: A master of stealth and subterfuge. Rogues were as quick on their feet as they were with their wit. They often served as the tricksters, the decoys, and the assassins. Aria was quite adept in this class. She could pick almost any lock she came across, and if she couldn't, she learned quickly. She could do the same with most common booby traps. She was silent as a cat when she moved, even the deftest of eyes could not discern her location if she wished it. Besides all that, she was lethal with her twin daggers, quick, agile, and rarely missed her marks.

Bethany's prowess was, of course, magic. She could wield fire about as well as any dragon while healing almost any wound sustained in battle. She was also lethal with her staff. Aria had sustained many a bruise, both to skin and ego, from her little sister.

Brawn, strength, and thick skin were Aveline's contributions. She could parry and duel with the best of them. For the rest of them, she just bashed them with Wesley's shield. She also had a particular knack for drawing attention her way should the battle prove too much for either Aria or Bethany alone.

They launched into battle, Aria impressed with Varric's skill on the crossbow he called Bianca. He was deadly accurate and hard to reach. Aria grinned her bloodlust at him as she backstabbed a particularly cantankerous highwayman who sought to kill the other rogue.

"I had it handled, Hawke!" he yelled at her when the brigand fell. His sparkling caramel-colored eyes and grin said otherwise, offering his thanks.

"Sure you did," Aria muttered, turning to survey the ongoing battle.

Aveline was driving back several of the assassins away from Bethany, who launched firebolts and rockets of ice at them all the while. A group of the bandits tried to flank them, but Aria quickly dove in to eliminate that threat. She whirled and danced, evading and slashing like a little tornado of death and destruction.

In all her years spent in Lothering, she'd always enjoyed a good fight. Carver used to hate how she'd dodge him, only to playfully shiv him in the back with a practice sword. It was the maddening tactic of the rogue. They were evasive and fought dirty.

After most of the afternoon had passed, they'd finally managed to clear the ambush site. Aveline was nearly strutting, puffing her chest out like a cocky little bantam rooster as they made the trek back to the city. She and Varric bantered back and forth, exchanging their respective battle stories and fueling each other's egos. Great, Aria groused in her thoughts. The last thing either one of them needed was an ego boost.

"A Fereldan in the guard. What will they think of next?" Varric laughed as Aveline finished recounting the story of the darkspawn ogre she'd helped Aria kill back in Lothering.

"You have a problem with that?" Aveline challenged, her chin going up in spite.

"Me? My family's not native either. I'm just surprised. Lots of old prejudice in the guard," Varric congenially replied, his smile genuine.

"I'll give them plenty of reason to change their minds," Aveline promised.

"You know, it's possible they're just scared shitless of you. That's my theory, anyway," Varric said. Aveline only chuckled in response.

They all followed Aveline back to the city, the trek much faster in retreat than it had been going forward. As they strode up to Gamlen's hovel, Bethany was apologizing for the status the house was in. Aveline shrugged it off, saying she was headed to bed anyway and wouldn't be staying. Varric planned on staying for a few minutes to discuss something with Aria.

"Right, can't blame you there. You get to sleep in a place funded by the Viscount," Aria bitterly interjected.

"You could do worse, Hawke. It's a roof."

"You only say that because you don't have to sleep here anymore."

Aveline chuckled. "Jealousy doesn't suit you. You haven't the right colored eyes."

"Oho! The stick in the mud_ does_ have a sense of humour!" Aria laughed sarcastically, joined by Varric's tenor timbre.

"Good night, Aria, Bethany, Varric," she said, nodding to each in turn. "Be at the Keep in the morning and I'll get you your reward."

As soon as Aveline was out of earshot, Bethany held up the key their mother had given her. "Care to check it out this evening?"

Aria grinned broadly at her sister, swiping the key and pocketing it. "Let's go," she said, bounding back down the steps.

"Whoa, hold on. Fill me in," Varric said, trotting after them.

"You're welcome to come along, Ser Dwarf," Aria liltingly said, bumping her shoulder playfully into Bethany's.

Bethany smiled and looked over at the dwarf as he sidled up to her. "We're going to reclaim some of our family's property from the estate Gamlen gambled away. Namely our Grandfather's Will, since he seems so bound and determined for us not to see it."

"How can you be sure it's still there?" he asked, lovingly stroking the stock on Bianca, his beloved crossbow.

"We can't, but nothing ventured, nothing gained," Aria answered. "It shouldn't take long. We'll be but a few hours."

"Where exactly are we going? Hightown is the other way," Varric said as they descended the stairs to Darktown.

"There's an entrance from beneath in the sewers," Bethany explained. "We're going to use that to get into the estate."

"Ugh. I should have told Norah to have a bath ready for when I get back," Varric grumbled.

"We could be getting some coin for the expedition, Varric. Besides, the sewers will prepare you for the Deep Roads, if we ever get there," Aria said as they swiftly navigated Darktown's narrow, filth-ridden passages.

"Maker help us," Varric sighed, not at all looking forward to the expedition's dangers. He was all too happy to reap the profits, however.

They reached the sewer entrance and found the cellar door Mother had told Bethany about. Aria slipped the key into the lock and turned. The rusted mechanism broke free after a few hard twists and they pulled the door open.

The dank smell of fecal matter, dust, and mold assailed their noses and Varric gagged. Aria covered her mouth and nose with the kerchief she kept in her pocket, warding off as much of the stench as possible. They reached the finished part of the cellar, away from the sewers, and dispatched of the slavers there. It wasn't a hard fight by any means. Aria was actually a little disappointed. They quickly climbed up the steps to the Amell Vault, having found the key on one of the mages who worked under the slavers' employ.

Aria searched the room, saving the largest chest in the corner of the room for last. In the other chests and cupboards within the Amell Vault, she found a portrait of their mother, the Amell crest, and a fair bit of coin.

She picked the lock on the last chest, wrenching the lid open on severely rusted hinges. Bethany dug through it and squealed as she pulled an important looking scroll from within.

"This is it! Grandfather's Will! Mother needs to see this as soon as possible!"

Aria grinned broadly, feeling as though a small justice had just been accomplished. "We'll take it to her right now."

With renewed vigor, they raced back through the sewers up into Darktown, then into Lowtown. They escorted Varric to the Hanged Man before racing jubilantly home. The whole endeavor in the cellar had only taken an hour and a half, much to Aria's pleasure. She was fond of sleeping.

They burst through the door, hearing Gamlen and Mother talking across the room.

"So I'm just saying, blood's blood and all, but you are taking advantage of my hospitality," Gamlen said, his visage speaking of treachery and his voice that of a sniveling child trying to get away with something, "It's only fair if you make something of a…monthly contribution—"

"You sold my children into servitude!" Leandra shouted back at him, her voice rife with indignation. "Now you're asking me to pay rent?"

Gamlen's face flushed and he looked utterly sheepish. "Er…maybe just something to put towards food…"

At this, Aria cut in, angered hotly at the way her ungrateful, weasly uncle was trying to play her mother. "You should be paying us, Uncle. We found the Will."

Bethany unrolled the scroll and began to read to herself, a haughty expression on her beautiful face. "He forgave you, Mother. Grandfather left you everything. Here! Read it!"

Leandra took the scroll from her daughter, and Gamlen was absolutely squirming. "Er—ah—I should maybe—"

"To my daughter, Leandra, and all children born of her," Leandra began reading aloud, "The estate in Hightown and all associated revenues…"

Aria pointed to a paragraph on the parchment, then glared at her uncle, saying to her mother, "Check out the part where Gamlen is left only a stipend—to be controlled by you."

"Gamlen, how could you?" Leandra gently asked, her tone hurt but not condemnatory.

"You're the one who ran away, Leandra. What happened to 'Love is so much more important than money'?" he sniped in response.

"It is!" Leandra shot back.

"You didn't even come home for the funeral!" Gamlen counter-accused.

Leandra sighed in exasperation. "The twins were a week old!"

"We all have our burdens, Leandra," he whimpered unsympathetically. "Mine was looking after a life you abandoned. How long was I supposed to wait?"

Aria snorted. "I doubt you let the ashes get cold."

Gamlen shot her a particularly ugly look. "I took care of Father. I stayed! And on his deathbed, all he could talk about was Leandra. Look, Sister, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it, but I did. And there's nothing I can do to get it back."

Ah, finally! An apology! Aria thought, looking back to her mother.

"I don't expect that, Gamlen," Leandra gently said. She went back to reading the will, her fingers caressing the parchment lovingly. "It's enough to know Mother and Father didn't die angry. I'll petition the Viscount for rights to reclaim the estate. Maker willing, you'll have your 'house' back within weeks."

At this, Gamlen scoffed, piquing Aria's ire again. "You don't have the coin or standing to even get an audience with the Viscount. You've got to be someone in this city to live in that house again," he spat.

"Then I had better get started," Leandra quipped, disappearing into her bedroom.

"Maker's breath, I can't stand you lot," Gamlen said, striding towards the door.

"Pfff, feeling's mutual," Aria sniped, laughing as he slammed the door in her face.

She turned to her sister, who was positively beaming. "Oh, Aria! I'm so happy we retrieved those things for mother! I can't believe Gamlen stole Mother's entire inheritance! I mean, I can believe it—that's the worst part. I could never turn against my own sister like that."

Aria hugged her sister, saying, "You're a far better person than Gamlen could ever be."

"Well hopefully we'll be out of here soon. You know, when we went to look for that Will, I thought we were doing it for Mother, for what she lost. I didn't realize how much it would mean to me. To know I had grandparents who didn't hate me."

Playful spitefulness sparked in Aria's gold-brown eyes. "They might have been alright with the Fereldan thing, but just imagine if they knew you were an apostate…" She dodged the half-hearted punch Bethany chucked at her, giggling impishly.

"You're such a wretch! I was just hoping it would be different this time. Here in Kirkwall. We're not running away again. We're coming home."

They sat together at the little table that served as their dining table. "Are you unhappy here?" Aria asked, pondering her own answer to that question.

"I wish I could do more for Mother. Carver's death… It's killing her slowly, every day. But maybe if we could reclaim some of what she lost, it will help. I'd do anything to get us back a normal life," Bethany replied, tears misting her eyes.

"Why did Mother and Father work so hard to keep you from the Circle? Would it have been so bad?" Aria queried.

"I guess at first…I was just a little girl. They didn't want to lose me. And once I had learned anything, what would the Templars do to an active apostate, not just a mage-blood child? It changed their lives, your life, Carver's. All because of who I am. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been so bad to be with my own kind, to serve the Chantry as Andraste demands," Bethany lengthily answered, her brows knitting together, her eyes still misty from unshed tears.

Aria took her hand across the table and squeezed gently. "We're going to make this our home, Bethany. I promise you."

"I hope so, Sister. I'm so very tired of running."

Aria smiled, then stretched and yawned.

"Yeah, it's bed time," Bethany softly said, mimicking Aria's movements.

They both traipsed into their shared bedroom and quickly dressed in their sleep attire. Aria blew out the lantern and clambered into her top bunk. She really needed a bath…

The following morning, Aria met Aveline at the Keep's enormous doors. It was far too early for pleasantries, so the walk to the guards' quarters was a silent one.

"There's Jeven's office," she said as they reached the guards' quarters. "Wait while I explain our initiative."

Aria shrugged in response, holding her arm out as though she were ushering the warrior into the Guard-Captain's office. Aria couldn't quite make out all that Aveline said, but the captain's response was loud and clear.

"I don't know how they do it where you're from, guardswoman, but I decide the patrols, not you and your whims! You may have been up for lieutenant in your first year, but I'll have no show-offs in my command! Have I made myself clear? Report to your post, before I have you and your Fereldan accomplice jailed!"

Aveline stormed out of his office, her face about as red as her hair. Her feline-green eyes shot vicious sparks of the hottest fury.

"Well, what a charming fellow," Aria grimly said as her friend reappeared.

"I don't have to like him, but he could at least listen," Aveline spat. "Bandits are dead—that's all that should matter. It's not the first time he's made me wonder like this. Something is very wrong."

"Oh here we go," Aria said rolling her eyes. "I have a feeling I'm getting dragged into something much bigger than this started out. This is probably a bad time to discuss my bill with him, hmm?"

Aveline regarded her with haughty incredulity. "He'll jail you, I don't doubt that. The rest, though…" she said, trailing off, lost in thought for a moment. She turned to Aria as though a momentous realization had occurred to her. "Well, the duty roster will have my next patrol. Sounds like I'll have plenty of time to follow you around. Threaten my friends…not letting that one go, Captain."

Aria followed her as she stalked over to where the duty roster hung on the wall for all the guards to reference. A female guard came up as soon as they reached it. She was built like Aveline, muscular, almost brutish, but slightly shorter and with shorter hair.

"Aveline! I owe you for clearing that ambush last night. Saved me a mess of trouble."

"Brennan! That route was yours?" Aveline inquired. Aria could see the gears turning again.

"It was. Single patrol. I'd have been dead for sure," Brennan answered her, her thanks genuine.

"A lone guard isn't much of a patrol," Aria quipped.

"Shouldn't need to be. That route was clear for weeks," Brennan explained. "First noise out of it was your big fight. The captain reassigned me after what you did, and I passed the satchel to Donnic for his patrol tonight."

Aria was momentarily confused. "The satchel? Guardspeak for what exactly?"

"Pay and order assignments," Brennan clarified for her. "Captain has us run deliveries to the outposts during light duty. It's usually an updated copy of the roster. The satchel for that night was heavy, though. Anyway, thanks again, Aveline. You're a good one!"

Aria and Aveline watched her walk away. None of this information boded too well. It pointed to things that stirred up far more trouble than either of them was really comfortable with. Still, Aveline's upstanding moral fiber would not allow her to let it drop.

"So, the satchel was heavy the same day we discover an ambush."

Aria groaned. "You're sure you want to pursue this? This is your superior we're talking about."

Aveline's lips spread in an uncharacteristically vindictive smile, then faded to acute worry. "If a guard was put at risk, a good captain would want to know why. And if he's not a good captain, I want to know why."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable lie that explains why your captain arranged this," Aria silkily stated, her mocking undertone not lost on Aveline.

"I'd be willing to hear it, but not while a guard may be walking into a trap. Brennan said Donnic…a good man," Aveline said, turning and examining the roster again, her finger sliding down the parchment as she searched for the name. "Donnic… Donnic. I've got his route. A night walk in Lowtown."

"Oooh, perfect for a first date," Aria sarcastically sniped. "Right, so I expect I'll see you tonight then?"

"I'll be at Gamlen's at sunset."

"Of course you will," Aria all too blithely said. "And the sleep deprivation starts anew," she muttered under her breath as she left the guards' quarters.

She meandered around Hightown alone for most of the morning, checking the merchants' wares and dreaming up a wish list for future purchases she would make. The weaponsmith had a lovely pair of dwarven daggers she'd taken a shine to. The armourer's stock was not at all rogue friendly. She hated being bogged down by pounds upon pounds of heavy armour –she needed to move freely when she fought. There was a merchant advertising "fine goods" named Hubert and she decided to have a look at his wares. She was pleasantly surprised when Varric and Bethany joined her.

"So, how'd it go with the Guard-Captain?" Varric asked as he and her mage sister stepped up to her.

Aria rolled her eyes, then launched into a summary of the goings on in the Keep, her voice lilting and chastising. "Our reward is not being jailed. Aveline's on the warpath. We're going to assist her tonight in busting another set-up and then watch Aveline's career go down in flames when she accuses the Guard-Captain of selling out those in his command to the highest bidder."

"Hmm," Varric said, thoughtfully stroking his chin between his thumb and index finger. "Sounds like a more enjoyable evening than I had planned."

"Is Aveline all right? How could the Guard-Captain jail us for deposing bandits and murderers?" Bethany asked, aghast.

"Because the Guard-Captain is dirtier than a Hanged Man lavatory," Aria replied, looking over a particularly attractive set of armour.

"They have a lavatory in the Hanged Man?" Varric asked, feigning shock. "Well I never…"

Aria chuckled to herself and the fellow running the stand approached her. He seemed none too happy that someone "like her" was looking at his goods. It sparked an intense desire in her to slash his throat, but she quelled the urge.

"Another Fereldan street rat. Are you here to waste my time, or do you actually have coin to spend?" the fellow said, swatting Aria's hand away from the armour.

Aria's tawny gaze shot angry razors at him. "Actually, my coin and I were just leaving," she retorted, turning to walk away.

"Eh," he said, grabbing her arm to stop her, his hoity-toity Orlesian accent grating even more on her nerves. "I'm just having a bad week. There are few Fereldans of means in Kirkwall. Forgive me?"

Aria considered him for a moment, then turned back to him. "Are you an armourer? A weaponsmith?"

The man smiled. "I'm Hubert, and my stock is varied. What all my wares have in common, however, is quality. Only the best for my distinguished patrons. See for yourself."

He opened the covers on some exhibits within his kiosk, allowing the three of them to look over his wares. Aria thanked him and promised to return later after she had finished a couple jobs. He didn't seem impressed, but she didn't care. She wasn't here to make people like her.


	4. Chapter THREE

**Chapter Three**

As the trio strode down the steps leading to Lowtown, Varric spoke up.

"Hawke, have you chased down that lead I gave you about the Warden?"

Aria shrugged. "It's on my to-do list for the day. So is sleep."

Varric chuckled. "Get used to it. Sleep is going to become as rare as a topside nug real quickly here. C'mon. Lirene's shop is just over there. Then you can go take a nap. Maker knows you could use some beauty sleep."

Aria thumped the dwarf's shoulder. "I don't look that bad. Better than you, at any rate."

He laughed again and shook his head, leading the way into the well-known Fereldan sympathizer's door. As they walked in, the scent of stale sweat, gangrene-infested wounds, and desperation assailed their noses. Bethany stifled a gag. Aria walked past the line of people seeking aid and went straight up to the stern-looking woman obviously in charge.

"You again? What do you want?" Lirene said, glaring at Aria.

"Friend of yours?" Varric silkily asked. Aria lightly but sharply kicked his hip. She had been here before out of curiosity on Athenril's behalf. She hadn't made a very good impression, apparently.

"I hear you know where I can find a Fereldan Grey Warden," Aria said, resting her elbows on the table in front of the grey-haired storekeeper, her eyes cautiously inquisitive.

Lirene's eyes flashed with momentary fury and she lifted her chin stubbornly. "Only Fereldan Grey Warden I've heard of is sitting on the throne. We're out of the Blight's path now. Why would you need a Warden?"

One of the refugees stepped up then, having eavesdropped the conversation. "The healer was one of them once, wasn't he? A Warden?"

Aria smiled glibly at Lirene. "Ah, from the mouths of the downtrodden."

Lirene glared at her and threw her arms up in frustrated defeat. "Well he's not now. And busy enough without answering fool questions about it," she spat.

With a heavy exasperated sigh, Aria prepared her reply. "Then I'll only ask very _smart_ questions."

"I do not joke, serah," Lirene snipped, Varric shaking his head with a sardonic smile quirking one side of his mouth. "You see what our people face in Kirkwall," Lirene continued, her eyes and voice taking on a pleading but accusing tone. "They have no jobs, no homes. Most can barely buy bread. This healer, he serves them without thought for coin. He's closed their wounds and delivered their children."

Aria smiled sweetly, her eyes impish. "And yet he needs to hide?"

"Would I stick my neck out for some purveyor of hensbane and leeches?"

"You mean he's a mage?" Aria asked, already knowing the answer. It made sense.

"He's a good man," Lirene tenaciously defended. "I won't lose him to the blighted templars."

"We would never turn someone over to the templars, Mistress. Never," Bethany cut in, producing a small ball of flame between her fingers and quickly extinguishing it before anyone else saw.

Lirene's demeanor changed instantly and Aria sensed a victory coming in their quest for knowledge concerning the Deep Roads. Or, in the very least, the location of someone who knew how to put them on the right path. She'd take the victory, no matter how small.

"He doesn't want to be locked in the Gallows just for using the gifts the Maker gave him," Lirene said, her voice holding warmth and admiration.

"I can hardly blame him," Aria sympathized, turning to look at Bethany briefly.

"I suppose it isn't my secret to keep," Lirene sighed. "Anders has certainly been free enough with his services. Refugees in Darktown know—to find the healer, look for the lit lantern. If you have need enough, Anders will be within."

"Thank you, Mistress," Bethany said as they turned to leave.

They walked outside the store, talking out their next course of action but didn't get very far. A group of thugs waited for them.

"You know, it would be really great to walk somewhere in this town _without_ needing a weapon," Aria sighed to herself before the thugs' leader came to the forefront of the group to speak.

"Hey," he said when he saw he had her attention. "We heard you in there, asking about the healer. We know what happens to mages in this town. And it ain't gonna happen to him."

Bethany stepped forward again and Aria was thankful for her presence. "Look, we're Fereldans just trying to keep out of the templars' sight, same as you!" She held out a fireball in her palm for emphasis, then quickly extinguished it with the sudden closing of her fist.

The man's visage waxed instantly apologetic. "Fereldan? But…you, your clothes…I figured you for a Kirkwaller. Sorry. Maker bless the rule of our King Alistair."

The group dispersed down the street quickly, not wanting to draw any other undue attention to themselves. Aria watched them go, shaking her head.

"All too ready to break out the pitchforks and torches," Varric said as they started their trek to Darktown.

"Hmmph. Just let them try it," Bethany quipped.

Aria turned to her, a brow arched in surprise. "Was that a little spunk I just heard?"

"Come now, sister. You know far better than to think you're the only one in this family blessed with a propensity for fighting and inciting."

Aria only smiled and focused on the steps that led down to Darktown. They were notoriously slippery with all sorts of unmentionable goo. She wasn't keen on landing on her backside in it. No telling what noxious diseases one could pick up should one contact it directly.

They continued through the Darktown alleys, Varric and Bethany discussing plans for a card game later in the evening. Aria refrained from dashing their hopes—Aveline had already reserved their services for the evening. Who was she to be the killjoy?

The healer's crude clinic was easy enough to find. They didn't call it Darktown for shits and giggles. Lit lanterns were like suns down here, and the brightest one was clearly visible. There was a throng of sick people sitting outside.

As the trio entered the clinic, an interesting little scene played out before them. A sick child lay motionless and hardly breathing on the rough wood table that served for examination purposes. A dirty-blond mage in weathered, worn robes hovered over him, his hands moving in beautifully fluent patterns that nearly entranced Aria. Bluish white mist that seemed illuminated from within evanesced from his palms and swirled in fanciful wisps over the boy's body. His dark eyes were transfixed on the boy's chest, deep chocolate brown and full of compassion and focus.

He suddenly pulled away from the boy, who gasped and sat up. The mage stumbled backwards, one of his stewards quickly settling a stool behind him so that he might rest. He looked as though what he was doing had been particularly taxing. And it was amazing. Aria found herself in awe of him.

His eyes landed on them and he whirled, snatching up his staff. His voice took on an ethereally dangerous quality that she was sure wasn't normally there as he spoke to them. It was a dark, malicious undertone, and a glimmer of white light pulsed briefly behind his dark brown eyes.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation," he boomed, dark eyes flashing. "Why do you threaten it?"

Aria held up her hands, seeking to placate him. She was further intrigued. "I'm just here to talk," she diplomatically said, not wanting to anger him or give him cause to attack. Pissing off a mage was never a good idea.

"We're interested in getting into the Deep Roads. Rumour has it you were a Warden. Do you know a way?" Varric added, stepping up to stand beside Aria.

The mage relaxed slightly, his staff going to his side as a warrior would sheath their blade. His hand still held it at the ready though. A flick of his wrist, and he'd be battle-ready.

"Did the Wardens send you to bring me back?" he cautiously asked. "I'm not going. Those bastards made me get rid of my cat. Poor Ser Pounce-A-Lot. He hated the Deep Roads."

Aria chuckled lightly. "You had a cat named Ser Pounce-A-Lot? In the Deep Roads?"

The mage smiled broadly at her, his dark hazel eyes going wistful with the memory. "He was a gift. A noble beast. Almost got ripped in half by a genlock once. He swatted the bugger on the nose. Drew blood, too. The blighted wardens said he 'made me too soft'. I had to give him to a friend in Amaranthine," Anders said, his tone growing bitter when he spoke of the Wardens.

Aria got back down to business. "I'm part of an expedition into the Deep Roads. Any information you have could save people's lives," she said, playing to the humanitarian within him.

"I will die a happy man if I never think about the blighted Deep Roads again. You can't imagine what I've come through to get here. I'm not interested… " he said, being cautious again. Then something else sparked in his eyes and she recognized the dawn of a deal in the making. "Although, a favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you."

"Let's be more specific," Aria chuckled. "I don't do anything involving children or animals."

"I have a Warden map of the depths in this area," Anders continued, a hint of a smile on his lips at the innuendo. "But there's a price. I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

"Oh, that's all?" Aria groaned. "I might just take my chances with the darkspawn."

Anders did not appear to like this answer. "If we fight the templars, it is because they decide that anyone who befriends a mage deserves death without questioning."

Aria considered this for a moment and Bethany chimed in. "As just as his cause is, it scares me. I don't want to give the templars another reason to hunt us."

It was exactly what Aria had been thinking. This task was dangerous not because of the actual fighting with the templars, but the ramifications of engaging them at all. She couldn't let Bethany be in danger. Then it occurred to her that she would just leave Bethany home. She'd have to make it a last minute decision—she knew her sister would not take kindly to being left behind.

"These are my terms," Anders continued, his eyes sizing Aria up head to toe. "If you want my aid with your expedition, meet me in the Chantry tonight. I have sent word to Karl to be there. Maker willing, we will all leave free men."

Varric and Bethany followed Aria out of Darktown. They talked amongst themselves, leaving Aria to her own thoughts. She wasn't quite sure what to think of Anders. She had a reputation for getting the job done, usually at whatever the cost. But this particular favor she was rendering could cost her dearly. And not just her—she feared for what could happen to Mother if Bethany was damned to the Gallows and the templars' caricature of mercy.

It wouldn't have been so bad if she'd been caught in Ferelden and sent to the Circle there. The templars in Ferelden were much more forgiving and lax in their pursuit of the mages. Add to that the fact that the Circle there was a thousand times more liberated. Magic wasn't seen as a plague to be contained in Ferelden, merely a force to be reckoned with and used for the good. If it did go astray, there was justice.

But here in Kirkwall, it was as feared as the Blight and it fed desperation. It was a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy; the worst in the templars brought out the worst in the mages. To be fair, she wasn't quite sure of her own stance on magic. She'd been the daughter of an apostate. Her father was an honest man, a noble man but without the esteem and title. He would have jumped at Anders's plight in a heartbeat and welcomed a fight with the iron-fisted templars.

She murmured her departing salute to Varric when they reached Gamlen's, having decided to catch some shut-eye before she embarked on the myriad adventures heaped upon her for this evening. As she lay on the top bunk of the stacked bed she and Bethany shared in their tiny room (Bethany was afraid of rolling off the top bed), she contemplated the crevices and grain of the beams in the ceiling.

If one of those seams were to crack, the entire structure would be weakened. The wood was old and weathered, having endured many a buffeting from the brutal storms that rolled into Kirkwall from the sea. How long could it last before the seams began to crack? How long after that would the entire house fall? And what could she do to stop it from happening, or at least prolong it once the cracks did begin to show?

She found her thoughts traveling then to the admittedly handsome mage they'd met today. Anders was a good man. His passion for freedom from oppression was a potent elixir for attraction. He'd been the first man she'd been attracted to at all since she came to Kirkwall.

It wasn't that she hadn't found many of the men in this city pleasant to look at. There were some head-turners worthy of her attention. However they lacked something vital. Their vacant stares were a huge turn-off. There was no fire in their eyes, nor was there ambition in their actions. They lacked…what Anders possessed.

Anders's eyes were anything but empty. They roared with life, passion, emotion, purpose. He was consumed by it and it drew her, like a hummingbird to nectar, regardless if that nectar may be laced with a fatal poison. So many people here had resigned themselves to their "fates". Anders was no slave to it. He made his own and fought against any sort of chains the world would put on him.

Aria did not put any sort of stock in fate. Nor did she claim any allegiance to any particular faith. She didn't understand how people could believe in things that simply existed to keep control of others. The Chantry, the Circle, the Order. While they had their benevolent purposes, they essentially had the same function: Indoctrinate and control. They gave you rules to live by. Superstitions to follow unless, _gasp_, one wanted to be punished in the afterlife.

How could anyone even be sure there was even such a thing as an afterlife? It's not like anyone lived to tell it. Why did people fear the Void? Didn't they see the beauty in such finality? Didn't they realize that the point of life was not to prepare for the after, but rather to live in the today? In her mind, the only way to exist after death was to leave a legacy worth remembering for the ages; something she fully intended to do.

She supposed she was an anarchist. She didn't care for routine. She didn't care for order. It just had no appeal. If there wasn't freedom to decide one's own actions, why was life even worth it? No. She would not exist in a world where her fate was decided for her. She was the master of it, and she would deal with the consequences of her decisions because they were exactly that: Hers. No one else's.

Aria hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep until she found herself being shaken gently into wakefulness by her sister. The house was much darker, except for the lanterns in the next room where Gamlen and Mother sat talking. Gamlen sounded drunk. Mother sounded weary. Outside her tiny, dirty window, Aria could see the sun had nearly set.

"Aria, it's time," Bethany softly said by her ear.

She sat up and cracked her neck, moaning at the release it offered her aching spine. "Urngh. Bethany—You're going to hate me, but I don't want you coming tonight," Aria said as she alighted the bunk.

Bethany sighed. "I was actually hoping you'd ask me that, but I didn't want to sound a coward."

Aria smiled at her sister and hugged her, mussing her short dark hair. "There's a big difference between cowardice and stupidity. You are guilty of neither."

"Thank you, sister," Bethany replied, her eyes misting slightly. "Please be careful."

"Careful is my middle name," Aria said, flashing her trademark sardonic smirk.

"And here I thought it was Reckless," Bethany quipped. "Go. Varric's already here."

Aria slipped on her boots and quickly made for the door. When Mother asked where she was going, Bethany deflected for her. She slipped out the door without saying anything more to anyone, confident in Bethany's skills of deception.

Varric waited on the top step, and surprisingly enough, Aveline stood there too.

"Aveline! What on earth are you doing here? I thought we were going to—"

"Hawke, you have the worst taste in adventures. Helping an apostate? What are you thinking?" she spat, jabbing her index finger in Aria's breastbone and forcing her to take a step back.

Aria was in no mood for lectures. She stepped forward towards the taller woman, her amber eyes flashing . "Being such a person of upstanding moral fiber, I would expect you to be at the forefront of such a cause."

Aveline was stunned by Aria's response. She hadn't expected the normally slick, cajoling rogue to be so venomous and driven.

"Hawke, I—"

"Don't. I already made the deal. It's time to honor it. When we're done, we'll go check up on your precious Donnic. And when we're done with that, I'm sleeping for a week. Move, guardswoman."

Aria trotted crossly down the steps, ignoring the witty remark Varric used to comment on the situation. She just wanted this night over with. She wanted her sister to be safe. Even if it meant she was the one who got clapped in irons.

The walk up to the Chantry was blessedly quiet. The night was warm. The breeze flowing in off the sea mingled with the gardens in Hightown and made the night surprisingly…beautiful. It lifted Aria's uncharacteristically dark mood. By the time they reached their rendezvous point with Anders, she was almost her normal light-hearted, quick-witted self.

Anders seemed shocked when he saw them climb the steps, but he also seemed very nervous. His eyes flitted between the three avengers, always coming back to Aria. Aria noticed that he'd shaved the week's worth of stubble from his face and straightened his dishwater-blond hair. He even bore the light scent of a reasonably expensive cologne she'd once smelled in a Hightown gift shop.

"I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago. No templars so far," he said, eying Aveline warily. "Who is this?"

"A friend of Hawke's and no friend of yours. I'm here to make sure you don't get her killed," Aveline curtly stated.

"She is here of her own volition, though I must say I'm happy your sister is not present. I do not wish to drag another mage into this mess," Anders replied, shaking off the stark disapproval in Aveline's tone. He turned to Aria. "Are you ready?"

Aria nodded, taking one more look around the Chantry courtyard. It was quiet. Not a soul in sight. It slightly unnerved her, but she shook off the feeling. "I didn't see anyone suspicious out here. Let's get this over with quickly, shall we? We've yet other affairs to conduct tonight."

"All right," Anders said amiably enough. "I'll do the talking. You watch for templars."

They walked into the Chantry, the well-oiled hinges on the huge doors swinging silently open, then closed again. Aria had never been in the Chantry since she'd come to Kirkwall over a year ago. It had a serenity about it that calmed her singing nerves. The incense wafted to them on the gentle draft that swirled through the entire structure. Honeysuckle, embrium, lilac, lavender, and sage. Meant to heal, soothe, and ward off evil spirits.

They followed Anders up a flight of robust stairs and to the right side of the balcony. A man stood next to the pews located there, his head down, his shoulders hunched over. He looked… Lost. Anders went immediately to him, his features radiating anxiety. The man turned and the expression of heartbreak that washed over Anders's face lanced through Aria, who felt his grief as her own.

"Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would never give up." The man's voice was flat, devoid of any sort of emotion.

Dread stole through Aria. She'd spoken to men like this before in Ferelden. It was the worst fate a mage could ever be damned to, or so Father and Bethany had said.

"What's wrong?" Anders pleaded. "Why are you talking like—"

"I was too rebellious," the man, Karl, flatly continued. "Like you. The templars knew I had to be—made an example of."

"No!" Anders whispered desperately, his terror glaringly evident.

"How else will mages ever master themselves? You'll understand, Anders. As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself," Karl monotoned, his eyes lethargically moving to something behind them.

Aria turned and found an entire troupe of templars swarming the steps. She cursed beneath her breath and drew her daggers. Aveline and Varric readied themselves for the impending battle.

"No!" Anders yelled, doubling over and leaning on his staff for support. He righted himself a moment later, his body glowing from within, cracks in his skin appearing and letting the light lance through. His eyes glowed bluish-white and a terrible energy radiated from every pore in his body.

"You'll never take another mage as you took him!" he boomed, Aria recognizing the same ethereal undertone he'd used when they first met.

He rounded on the templars, his staff issuing bolts of vicious energy that collided with the templars and seared their armour clean off. Aria took this time to use his distraction and create a more palatable environment for their victory.

She bolted to the group of archers assembled behind them in a little alcove to the right of the stairs, snagging a miasmic flask from her belt and tossing it into the air. She spun and kicked it, shattering the glass and stunning powder over their heads. They swayed where they stood, their bows falling in their limp arms. Varric launched a hail of arrows over their heads and Aria went to work, slicing their throats as quickly as she could.

The last of the archers came to before she could get to him and she fought him, dodging and parrying with him as he drew his shortsword. She spun in a graceful circle, his blade narrowly missing her abdomen. In the same fluid motion, she beheaded him with the elegant down slice of her on-hand dagger.

Aveline was finishing off a horde of heavily armoured templars, and Anders was launching attack after magical attack at them. Aria raced over, taking advantage of the element of surprise and cutting down two of the four remaining templars while Aveline and Varric finished off the other two.

Once the battle was finished, they returned to Karl where he stood, regarding Anders with terror and awe.

"I—Anders, what did you do? It's like…you brought a piece of the Fade into this world. I had already forgotten what that feels like," he wistfully said as Anders approached him, the glowing from before having ceased.

"What _did_ you do?" Aria asked, her own interest piqued but her defenses on the employ. "Not the Fade part—the angry glowing bit."

"It's like a gateway to the Fade inside you, glowing like a beacon," Karl said in awe.

"I have…some unique circumstances, yes," Anders said, clearly not willing to elaborate and drawing the attention away from him. "But, Karl, what happened? How did they get you?"

"The templars here are far more vigilant than in Ferelden. They found a letter I was writing you…" he trailed off as though trying to remember a distant memory. "You cannot imagine it, Anders. All the color, all the music in the world, gone. I would gladly give up my magic, but this?" His voice cracked, his will visibly broken. "I'll never be whole again."

Aria shook her head. "This is what Bethany fears."

"Please, kill me before I forget again!" Karl pleaded, grasping the collar of Anders's robes. "I don't know how you brought it back, but it's fading."

"Karl, no—" Anders whimpered, taking a step back from his friend, his countenance twisted with grief.

"Maybe we can find a cure," Aria interjected, not fully grasping the gravity of the situation. She did not wish to see anyone else murdered this night for the sake of magic. Even if they asked for it.

"Can you cure a beheading?" Anders bitterly shot at her. "The dreams of Tranquil mages are severed—there is nothing left of them to fix."

"I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet," Karl said, his eyes still pleading.

"The Tranquil I've met seem content with their lot," Aria suggested. "Maybe it's not that bad."

"You have no idea," Anders softly said to her as though speaking to a small child. "Your emotions, your dreams, everything—stripped away on someone's whim!" he continued, impassioned. "If I were made Tranquil, I would wish for a friend compassionate enough to kill me. Karl," he said, turning to his friend, his dark eyes soft, tears forming in their corners but not spilling over. "I'm sorry—"

"Now!" Karl gasped. "It's fading…" His eyes clouded over, as they had been when they'd first come upon him. He looked—confused. "Why do you look at me like that?"

Anders's shoulders stooped and he drew the dagger that rested at his waist. "Goodbye," he torturedly murmured, driving the dagger deep into Karl's abdomen. He held the dying mage to him and gently lowered him to the floor. After a moment, he righted himself and turned to his companions.

"We should go before more templars come."

They quickly made their exit, keeping to the shadows as they moved through Hightown and followed the apostate back to his clinic in Darktown. Aveline silently fumed, her green eyes zinging accusatory darts at Aria and spitting malice at Anders. Varric had remained silent most of the night, not finding anything to say that might ease the heavy cloud that settled over them all. He knew when it was best to shut up, thankfully.

By the time they stepped into the clinic, Aria had recovered enough of her former sarcasm and well-oiled sharp wits to be somewhat pleasant company. Aveline left to prepare for the ambush that surely awaited Donnic. Bethany was waiting for them, her face etched with worry.

"So, let me guess. This is the part where you tell me you're an abomination?" Aria ventured once the clinic doors had been closed and the locks thrown in place.

Anders sighed, offering her a half-hearted smile. "You're wrong. But not far wrong. I…this is hard to explain." He dragged his fingers through his hair, then let his hand rest on the back of his neck. "When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends. And he recognized the injustice that mages in Thedas face every day."

Aria sat at the small work table next to where he stood. She was already extremely weary, and the fact that the night was hardly over weighed heavily on her. "And that's…different than a demon?" she asked, curious.

"Just as demons prey on the deadly sins of mankind, there are good spirits who embody our virtues," he said, sitting across from her, his eyes contemplative. "They are the Maker's first children, and they have all but given up on us."

"What does this have to do with your eyes glowing?" Aria queried, the hint of laughter on her lips.

"To live outside the Fade, he needed a host," Anders answered, offering her a glass of water from the pitcher sitting on the table. Bethany and Varric joined them, taking glasses he offered them and drinking. "I offered to help him… We were going to work together, bringing justice to every child ever ripped away from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But… I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he…changed."

They were silent for a moment, Aria trying to get a read on Anders's emotions. She didn't like the way he looked so forlorn and abandoned. It did something funny to her heart—it brought a peculiar pain that she didn't exactly dislike.

"This is obviously difficult for you," she said after the moment passed.

"I thought I was helping my friend. He would have—died, I guess. If that even means anything. And he wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered."

Bethany rested a hand on his from her perch beside him. "You tried to help a friend. Surely no harm can come of that."

He smiled wistfully at her and gently removed his hand. "I wish I still had your innocence. There was too much hatred in me. Justice thought he would overcome that. But my anger… When I see templars now, things that have always outraged me, but I could never do anything about… He comes out. And he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of vengeance. And he has no grasp of mercy."

"Hmm. And the attraction is explained," Aria said softly, her eyes locked on Anders, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from Bethany and Varric.

Anders chuckled lightly, a sound that wasn't at all unpleasant. "Perhaps I should check a looking glass more often. I had not thought to ever find a woman who would look past what I just said."

Anders stood then, and the rest followed suit. They watched as he walked over to a bureau in the corner and opened a drawer. From it, he pulled several rolled scrolls, secured with dull but utilitarian looking string. He handed them to Aria.

"My maps are yours. As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have any need of me… I will be waiting here." He offered Aria his hand, which she took and briskly shook. He let his grasp linger slightly longer than was necessary and it made her heart falter for a couple of beats.

"Get your rest, Anders," she softly said. "I'll be in touch."

"Hopefully soon. Good night, Aria Hawke."


	5. Chapter FOUR

**Chapter Four**

Aria ignored the taunts both Bethany and Varric launched at her as soon as they exited the clinic.

"Coming on to the apostate already? My my, Hawke. You work fast," Varric chuckled as they ascended the steps from Darktown to Lowtown.

"It's poetic," Bethany said. "I've never seen her take a shine to anyone. At least not in Kirkwall."

"Oh really?" Varric asked, his interest piqued. He was a master storyteller, and this sounded like the beginning of a really juicy tale. "Maybe she just hadn't met anyone of enough…substance yet. Or maybe it's the whole abomination thing. Women are just drawn to the whole impossible love idea."

"There was this templar in training back in Lothering—" Bethany started, but was cut off.

"That's enough, you two," Aria barked. "Aveline's just up there. Weapons at the ready. The night is far from over," Aria said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Is she always this cross?" Varric asked of Bethany.

"Only when she hasn't slept ten hours in the day," Bethany replied, ignoring the scathing glare Aria threw her way.

Aveline waved to them as they came into view. They jogged up to her and followed her through the alleys. It was a surprisingly quiet night in Lowtown—and that was never a good thing. As they walked, Varric struck up a conversation with Aveline.

"So what do you do, Aveline?" Varric asked as they searched a particularly dark alley. It was empty.

"You know I'm a guard, why are you asking?" Aveline shot back, not too keen on conversing at the moment.

"I mean in your off-duty hours. For fun. You've heard of it, I hope?" Varric glibly pressed, raising his crossbow and staring through the sight for a second.

"These are my off-duty hours," Aveline clipped, her expression puzzled.

Varric shuddered, lowering Bianca and saying, "And the trend of you scaring the piss out of me continues."

"Varric, do you do anything?" Aveline countered, not at all pleased with his assessment of her.

"Am I the next stop in your career evaluations? Joy of joys," Varric replied, non-plussed.

Aveline glared at him as they walked the next alley. "You watch and you talk. Is that it?"

"You are dismissing hallmarks of both the utterly ineffectual and the incredibly dangerous," Varric cryptically replied.

"I don't know what you mean," Aveline said, stopping to look behind a bunch of crates and finding only a couple of large rats. They continued on.

"It means coins flow when I talk and when I shut up. Like if you got paid to guard or unguard," he said, his voice low and mocking.

"That makes no sense," Aveline hotly retorted.

"Good," Varric said and they fell silent.

After a few more minutes of searching, they heard the sounds of battle. Aria raced ahead of them, the quickest of the group. Ahead, a guardsman stood amidst a large band of Coterie assassins. Aria employed her usual miasmic flask entrance to battle, doing as much damage as she could while she used the element of surprise. Aveline, Varric, and Bethany launched themselves into the battle as quickly as they could.

The battle was short, thankfully. Aria's strength was waning quickly. She couldn't take much more of this tonight. Aveline ran over to where Donnic had fallen in his exhaustion. She cradled him to her like a small child, checking him over for wounds. He had only sustained a concussion and a few nicks and bruises, but seemed otherwise unharmed. Aveline helped him to his feet, steadying him as he wobbled for a moment.

"Who… Ave… Aveline?" he groggily asked, his vision clearing. "You're a beautiful sight," he huskily stated, his eyes locked on hers.

"Guardsman?" Aveline asked, playfully reproachful but blushing and looking like a bashful school girl.

"I mean, I was on patrol, and they came out of nowhere. I took a few down but there were too many at once. The captain said this route was supposed to be quiet," Donnic clarified, blush also tingeing his cheeks.

Aria ignored them for the time being, letting Aveline enjoy her lovey-dovey moment. Aveline very much enjoyed playing the saviour. Who was Aria to intervene? Aria located the satchel while they talked, opening it up and reading the contents.

"The seal of the Viscount. Office details, city accounts," Bethany relayed over Aria's shoulder.

"Valuable to a guild of thieves," Aria nonchalantly stated, continuing rifling through the satchel's contents and handing them to Bethany to read.

Aveline and Donnic stumbled over, leaning on each other for support.

"A sacrificial delivery with one of our own," Aveline snarled. "Captain Jeven will answer," she vowed.

Aria stood, handing the satchel to Donnic, who now stood of his own accord. "Selling out his own… Forget Guard-Captain. This man needs to be in government."

Aveline rolled her eyes. "Not now, Hawke. Jeven needs to see how justice works. This goes to the office of the Viscount. This will be known," she venomously stated, her eyes darting to Donnic, then back to the satchel. "The captain likes his thieves so much—let's see if they welcome him in prison."

Aria groaned. "Yes, yes. Due process and whatnot. Are we done here?"

Aveline gave her a sulfurous glare before looking tenderly back at Donnic. "Yes, we're done. I'll let you know when the investigation is complete. You'll want to be there when justice is rendered," she distractedly replied, walking away with Donnic, allowing him to lean on her for support as they ascended the steps.

The fingers of dawn grasped at the cloak of night, peeling it back and revealing the first glow of daybreak on the horizon. Aria and Bethany accompanied Varric to the Hanged Man. Bethany declined Varric's offer of a pint, but Aria was game. Bethany curled up on Varric's bed while the other two talked over their ale.

"So, I've been dying to know," Varric said once they'd sat down with their alcoholic beverages in his room. "What was going through your head when you fought that ogre?"

Aria laughed. "For the first few seconds: 'Maker! What do they feed those things?!' But after that? I saw red, honestly. It killed Carver. I wasn't going to let it live."

At this, Varric also laughed. "I don't know anyone else that's even seen one! You're lucky just to be standing here. Somehow, Hawke, I imagine things won't be dull with you around. Not that I expect the Deep Roads to be boring, mind you. Constant threat of doom does tend to keep you awake."

"A lot of things can keep you awake though. I wouldn't reach for the doom first," Aria said, putting her tankard to her lips and taking a very long, hearty draught.

Varric did the same before replying. "Sure, I could have a cup of tea in the morning, but I hear it's bad for you. I've spent my whole life in Kirkwall. Dangerous enough, most days. But, it doesn't compare to the Deep Roads. So, this will be…let's just call it an 'adventure', I guess," he said.

Aria toasted him, clinking the rim of her tankard against his. "Great! Now we're adventurers!"

Varric chuckled and they were both silent for a moment, Aria contemplating the flames in the hearth. She tore her gaze from them, finishing her tankard before speaking again.

"What about you, Varric? You know my story, for the most part. How does yours read?"

He chuckled, also finishing his pint. "You're in luck. I am always willing to talk about myself to beautiful women," he said, winking at her suggestively. She laughed as he continued. "My family came from Orzammar—noble House Tethras—until my father got caught fixing Provings. He and our whole House got exiled."

Provings were the dwarves' way of settling feuds between clans and entertaining themselves. It was a gladiatorial event in which the best fighters from each respective House settled whatever dispute had been raised. But, most of the time, it was simply fighters kicking the crap out of each other and winning bragging rights until such time as someone else did it to them.

"That's…awful," Aria said, leaning forward in her seat, intrigued by his story.

"No huge loss," Varric said, smiling. "I was born up here. Sunshine suits me just fine."

At the mention of sunshine, Aria looked out the window and groaned. "Speaking of sunshine, it's rising and we've all yet to see our beds." She went over to Bethany, who was sound asleep, and gently shook her.

They said their farewells for the time being and walked home, both dragging their feet and quite weary. They trudged up the steps to Gamlen's, both silent in their exhaustion. Aria swung open the door and groaned upon the sight there.

"Out all night," Gamlen groused as they entered, hiccupping and swaying from his perch beside the small, dirty hearth. "One might be led to believe you're up to no good."

"We're not you, Uncle," Aria sniped, looking at the desk and noticing a few letters piled there addressed to her.

Bethany went straight into the bedroom without casting their slippery uncle a single glance. She hated the man and it was more than well-deserved.

"I'm not your personal post man," Gamlen continued as Aria went through the letters.

They were from Athenril—offers of work that could produce quite a decent profit. She hated dealing with the underground anymore, but work was work and they needed the money if they were going to get out of this filthy hovel. Aria didn't know how much more she could take before she just outright dispatched of the disgustingly snivelly wretch that served as her uncle.

"You get more damned mail than I do, and I actually live here," he burped as she strode past him, leaning back in his chair and glaring at her.

"Shut up," she said, kicking the chair so that it fell backward.

He landed with a satisfying "thud". She hardly paused in doing so and said nothing as she walked into the bed room, smiling wickedly to herself at the litany of putrid insults he hurled her way. She slammed the door in his face and threw herself onto the top bunk.

"Thank you," Bethany murmured sleepily from beneath her.

"For?" Aria asked, yawning.

"Everything. Keeping me from the templars. Kicking that filthy excuse for a human. Working so hard."

"You're my sister. I would do nothing less."

"And I for you."

Aria turned on her side, drawing the thin, scratchy blankets over her shoulders. She winced as her armour shifted. She didn't have the energy to remove it. With a heavy sigh, she looked up at the beams again, scarcely visible in the low light of the dawn.

Soft, impassioned, dark eyes swam before her in a handsome, but tortured visage. A halo of dark gold hair adorned the face. Ambition drove the noble purpose. Anders. He was worth pining for. She knew it was perilous to allow herself to have feelings for such a dangerous man. Well, the man himself wasn't really the danger—his situation was. An active apostate and revolutionary, partial abomination, hunted. Well, how could a woman _not_ want that?

"Aria?" Bethany asked after a few moments had passed.

"Hmm?" Aria sleepily replied.

"Anders—he seems taken with you."

Aria chuckled softly. Her sister always had a knack for knowing what was on her mind. "You think so? We only just met him."

"He's a good man, like Lirene said. But guard your heart. I have this dreadful feeling that you're going to need it."

Aria sighed. "Let's not jump to the nuptials just yet, shall we?"

Bethany laughed quietly. "At any rate, I'm glad you found someone who interests you. Being alone… In this city of unfamiliarity and hostility… I'm just glad you have people to watch your back."

"Yours too," Aria said, yawning.

"It will all work out. You'll see," Bethany sleepily said.

Aria waited a few moments until the deep breathing beneath her yielded a single soft snore. She smiled sadly to herself. "I hope you're right, sister. I really do."


	6. Chapter FIVE

**Chapter Five**

It was late afternoon before Aria stirred. The house was blessedly quiet. She stretched and sat up, stifling the yawn that forced its way up her throat. Her entire body was sore from the night spent in vigorous battles and she was loathe to leave the bed, as uncomfortable as it was.

She groaned and swung her legs over the side, peering down to see if Bethany was still there. She wasn't. Aria hopped down, moving her shoulders in slow, small circles to alleviate some of the tightness in them. She did the same with her ankles, then proceeded to emerge from the bed room.

Her fortune seemed even greater as she entered the house's main room and found it deserted. She strode over to the writing desk and read the letters from Athenril. She'd already completed one of the jobs a couple of days ago.

One of the incomplete tasks was supposed to happen later this week, late at night of course. She groaned again. Why did nothing of import ever happen during daylight hours like with normal people? She was supposed to meet a contact, Anso, in Lowtown at nightfall four days from today by the merchants' square in the Lowtown Bazaar.

She grabbed the loaf of bread that sat on the small kitchen table and cut off a hunk, chewing it thoughtfully as she peered out the tiny, dirty window overlooking the Old Slums' square. People meandered about, talking to each other and making trades from weapons and crafts to food and other necessities.

What would she do in the meantime? She didn't really have any plans for today or this evening, thankfully. She figured she'd clean and service her armour and trusty daggers. Maybe do some shopping at the market and put some better food in this house. Gamlen had resigned himself to eating half-rotten food and stale bread. Then again, he relied upon the drink to sustain him above anything else. Mother would require more—and she more than deserved it.

She went into the small wash room and pumped water into the three large buckets there. Then she went to the small hearth and hung them over the coals to warm. She desperately needed to wash. Thankfully, Bethany's skills with herbs and flowers gave her the luxury of heavenly scented soaps, creams, and oils for her skin and hair. Aria had always been particular about the way she smelled. She couldn't stand her own body odor—or anyone else's for that matter.

As the water warmed over the fire, she set to work on her armour, scrubbing the blood from it first so that she could polish it and locate any dings or dents. She diligently worked on that for nearly an hour, satisfied with the shine it had when she had finished. She checked the water and found it still not warm enough for her liking. To occupy her time until the water was ready, she set to work honing the edges of her daggers, whetting the blades and removing the nicks they'd sustained.

Once done with that, the water was plenty warm, if not a little on the scalding side. She used the tongs next to the hearth to remove the buckets and carried them back into the wash room, emptying them into the small, but deep vat that served as a washtub. She then went into the bedroom and gathered her favorite hair wash, hair cream, body soap, and moisturizing oils that Bethany had crafted specifically for her.

Bethany had used sprigs of fresh lavender, vanilla clippings, heavy cream, lard, and ground sage to create the toiletries. It was the most relaxing scent and an instant mood lifter. Not to mention, most of the Kirkwall and Fereldan women she passed would remark on the softness and glowing quality of her alabaster skin. Aria was slightly vain, but not so much that it impeded her effectiveness.

Aria gingerly lowered herself into the steaming water after stripping out of her dirty undergarments, having laid out freshly washed clothes over the stool next to the tub. She set to scrubbing her hair and body, leaving the special cream to soak into her hair and scalp afterwards. She lingered in the small tub for a time, allowing the sweet, clean aroma to permeate her pores and sink into her very spirit.

The hot water did wonders for her aching muscles, seeping straight through to the aches and gently warming them away. She actually dozed off for several minutes in the water, enjoying this alone time. It was good to just have a bit of silence, to be alone with herself. Her thoughts eagerly wandered back to Anders. She wondered if he'd thought of her at all. If those thoughts were pleasant, worried, angry. Bethany had seemed sure he was at least interested in her. Aria had been alone for so long…

She'd never really loved a man—at least, not in the world-shattering, end all, be all way. Sure, she'd had a few adolescent trysts and even laid with a couple of them back in Lothering. The most prominent one, and the one she experienced the deepest feelings for had even been in training to be a templar. He'd had the loveliest grey eyes she'd ever seen, stormy seas over a brilliant light. She wondered, sadly, if he'd made it out of the south lands in time to avoid the Blight. He'd left before her family had, gifting her a beautiful amulet before he departed. It was an amethyst in the shape of a dragon. She'd lost it when they fled. Her father and Bethany had been none too pleased that Aria was being courted by a would-be templar, but they'd said little. He was a good man. Ser Devon was his name.

She smiled wistfully at the memory. She had spent many an afternoon with him, hiding from the Revered Mother in town. They'd gone to the alfalfa and wheat fields south of Lothering near the Korcari Wilds and watched the sun set. He had always loved her hair; he'd said it reminded him of spun moonbeams, silver, and stardust. He'd spend hours just running his fingers through it while they talked. His touch relaxed her, sent her to a blissful, worry-less state she hadn't been able to achieve on her own. With father and Bethany being apostate mages outside the circle, she had much to fear.

Often they didn't return to town until well after the moon and stars had risen. He said he loved how she looked in the moonlight. He didn't realize how well it had suited him, though; he had light, ashen blond hair that he kept short and tawny, flawless skin. He kept his goatee immaculately trimmed. The moonlight made him look more like a benevolent god than a man. Although those things made him visually appealing, it was always his eyes that drew her.

Silvery grey. Fathomless. Full of compassion, mirth, and goodness. They fringed at the corners in the most endearing fashion, delicate tridents that displayed the happiness within. He stood a head taller than her and always made her feel like the most important person in the world. She felt as though she fit just right under his strong arm, nestled close to his side.

She didn't know if she loved him, because before that revelation could occur, he was ordered to leave Lothering with a bunch of the younger recruits. They'd gone to Denerim to serve the Chantry there and fortify Ferelden's capitol city as it braced for the onslaught of the coming Blight. She would never forget the despaired look he gave her as he walked away from the village.

She felt quite similar when she looked into Anders's eyes. They had the same warmth, the same goodness within. But they also held a haunted light. She wanted to drive that part away and see if he was not too broken to repair.

Aria had always enjoyed fixing things. While she had a knack for quick wit and a sharp tongue, her first instinct was always to make people laugh. To make them forget their troubles and just enjoy the gift of life for a while. Too many people didn't have the chance to enjoy the life they'd been given. Poverty was a blessing; it absolved one of the responsibilities those of higher stature held. Love abounded. Joy could be found in the smallest of things. Coin could not buy that.

Here in Kirkwall, she realized just how good she had really had it in Lothering. The long days she spent with father, aiding the sick and making people merry. She used to sing and dance a lot; the village often gathered during times of the planting and harvest, and it was often requested of her that she sing for them. Her father used to call her his little Birdie, and it had been her childhood nickname. He'd said her voice was clear and pretty as any Chantry bell.

A knock at the washroom door snapped her from her reverie. Bethany's dark head poked in and she smiled sweetly at her sister.

"I could smell you all the way outside. How are you feeling?" she timidly asked, stepping in and closing the door.

"Much better now, thank you," Aria said, wiping at the tears that she hadn't realized fell down her cheeks.

"Don't be sad," Bethany compassionately said, striding quickly over to the tub, a large towel draped over her arm. She laid it across the stool and sat on top of it, her dark eyes kind.

"I'm not—I'm actually quite happy. Just—remembering the good times in Lothering."

Bethany smiled. "They were good. You're…thinking about Ser Devon, aren't you?"

Aria couldn't help the bitter taste that rose in her mouth. "I hope he lived. And I hope he's found someone to make him happy."

"I like to think he did," Bethany said, folding her hands in her lap. Aria noticed she held something folded in cloth. "For a templar, he was a good man. He was always gracious about us."

"They're not all bad. Just like not all mages are bad," Aria replied. "What have you there?"

"Something I picked up today at the market for you. I hope you don't mind. I just thought that it would look lovely on you," Bethany said, handing the item to her.

Aria carefully unwrapped it after flicking the water from her hands. It was a pair of pewter hair combs with small amethysts and jet gems set in swirling patterns. They were quite lovely.

"I imagined you would bathe when you woke, and I wanted to set them in your hair when you were ready," Bethany said, her dark eyes shining.

Aria couldn't help the tears that sprang anew. "They're…perfect. Thank you. I would like that very much."

"I am so glad! Hurry up in here so I can do your hair," she said, standing. "Mother will be home soon and I know she'd just love to see them."

Aria waited until Bethany closed the door behind her before dipping beneath the water and rinsing the cream from her hair. She quickly stepped out of the tub and dried herself, then smoothed the same scented oil over her skin. She swiftly donned the clean undergarments, slip, and long black dress she'd laid out and exited the washroom to find Bethany sitting at the little table next to the hearth, brush, combs, and hair pins at the ready.

She seated herself on the floor at Bethany's feet and allowed her sister to comb through her long, damp tresses.

"You know what I miss?" Bethany said after a few minutes of companionable silence, taking the snarls from her sister's long hair with a beautiful whale ivory bone their mother always used.

"Hmm?" Aria asked, her eyes closed in blissful relaxation.

"Your voice. You never sing anymore."

Aria laughed, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. "What is there to sing about?"

"Plenty! Haven't you any inspiration anymore?" Bethany exclaimed, hurt.

"These times have been dark. I fear any song I sing will only add to the melancholy," Aria softly replied, wincing as Bethany twisted her hair a little too tightly. She inserted a couple of pins, then twisted a few more of the strands together, and secured them with one of the combs.

"Melancholy or not, I wager it would make you feel better in the end. You have such a pretty voice."

They were silent again, and Bethany finished the other side of Aria's hair. Bethany handed her the little ornate pewter looking glass to check her hair. Aria was a little surprised by the image in the mirror. Her sister was so talented. She could make the ugliest of hags look like a divine goddess.

"Oh, Bethany…" she murmured. "You do such beautiful work."

"Aria, you are so gifted. Don't squander them because we've had a bad turn."

Just then, Mother entered the house. She took one look at her daughters and her hand flew to her mouth. She smiled broadly and rushed over to them, enveloping them both in her arms.

"Oh! I was so worried about you!" she gushed once she released them. "I feared something bad had happened. You two were so sound asleep all day!" She looked at Aria and cupped her cheek. "Aria—you look so lovely today."

"Thank you, Mother. I was going to go to market and pick up some fresh food. Gamlen doesn't know the meaning of sustenance," Aria replied, withdrawing slightly. She didn't much care to be the center of attention.

"Do go! Get out! Enjoy the day! I fear this past year has been too heavy a burden on your young shoulders. Make merry! I will see you later this evening," the Hawke matriarch said, ushering Aria to the door after handing her the satchel she always carried.

Aria laughed, despite being pushed out of the house. "All right. You two stay out of trouble while I am away."

She walked out of the house after slipping into her favorite pair of shoes, simple flats made of doeskin that had stretched and formed to her feet perfectly. She wandered through the markets as the sun set, buying fresh fruit, vegetables, a few cuts of salted meat, and some more bread. She even bought a bottle of decent mulberry wine. She returned home to drop the items off, only to find the house empty once more.


	7. Chapter SIX

**Chapter Six**

He had read the same passage at least a dozen times by now, but he wasn't seeing the words. Instead, he was replaying last night's events in his head. Karl's death angered him and left him full of the perpetually growing hatred and sorrow. The templars had committed yet another atrocity. Would it ever end?

Anders sighed and turned the page, skimming over the text with his fingers. It was a Tevinter account, the story of how a couple of magisters devised some healing techniques for wounds inflicted by a particularly nasty poison that rotted the flesh when it encountered it. Most rudimentary healing spells and salves wouldn't work on it. He sighed, finding his thoughts turning to the woman who'd made it even possible to save Karl.

He'd seen her fight through Justice's eyes. She was a dynamic whirlwind, full of fire and life. Her amber eyes crackled with mischief and mirth, but there was bitterness as well. She'd been slightly cross at first, then afterwards, he'd felt she was much a kindred spirit. Her sister was an apostate, and from what he'd gathered, so was her father. She knew his fight all too well, having magical blood in her own veins.

Add to all of that the fact that she was absolutely lovely. Graceful for one of her stature—she was tall for a woman. Not too tall, but not in any way petite. She was quick-witted and had the same sense of humor he used to have—before he'd willingly become an abomination of sorts. He found himself replaying their conversation over and over, especially the part where she expressed interest in him.

At least, that's what he thought anyway. He could be wrong, but it seemed like she'd called him handsome, in a roundabout way. It had been nearly two years since he'd been interested in a woman. That in itself was sad—he used to be quite adept at romance. Until Justice came, at least.

He smiled as he remembered many a night spent engaging in the lowest, most beautiful forms of passionate debauchery. So many willing beauties had been at his side. Amaranthine had been the end to that. And now—this Aria Hawke.

She was not the usual beauty. Hers went deeper. She had the brightest, stardust hair that seemed to glow in the lowest of lights. He could only guess at its length, as she wore it piled and twisted tightly and intricately on her head. Practical for her line of work. She was lithe of form and surprisingly pale. Most of the Fereldan refugee women had skin darkened by long hours spent working in the sun. She was as radiant ivory as any of the Hightown noblewomen, though he was certain she spent her fair share of days in the sun the same as any of the other peasant women.

He heard the soft thud of approaching footfalls and looked up, surprised to see her standing there. It was if his thoughts had summoned her to him. This…warrior goddess. But she was not garbed as such this evening. Tonight she was every bit the fair, enchanting maiden he had dared dream her to be, and she stole his breath.

Not wanting to sit idly in an empty house, she returned to the street and found herself drawn to Darktown. Aria garnered many curious stares as she worked her way through the gloom, many people glaring at her. Their plight weighed heavily on her. These were her people; forced into a city that hated them, exiled to live among the filth that Kirkwall heaped upon them.

Inevitably, she found herself walking up the steps to Anders's clinic. The lantern was lit. Smiling to herself and swallowing the lump of nerves that rose in her throat, she entered, finding him stooped over his little desk reading something.

He turned when he heard her enter and his warm, dark caramel colored eyes brightened when he took her in.

"Aria? I hardly recognize you," he said, standing and almost unsettling his chair.

"You mean without the gore and stench of battle clinging to me?" she quipped, her tawny eyes sparkling.

"Well, there is that. You're beautiful even then," Anders replied. "Is there anything you need?"

"Actually, no. I was just stopping in to visit for a bit. See how you were faring after…last night. And I brought this," she said, producing the wine from her satchel.

He smiled appreciatively. "I'll fetch some goblets. Are you hungry?"

It dawned on her that she had only eaten a small bit of bread today. With that realization, her stomach rumbled. She laughed and placed a hand over her belly. "Famished, to be honest."

He softly chuckled and moved to the table, pulling out a chair. He indicated for her to sit, and she readily complied. He set a plate of various fruits, cheese, and some wafers in front of her. She waited to eat until he made his own plate and sat across from her. She poured wine into the two goblets he'd set on the table and they commenced eating.

"I suppose I should thank you for what you did last night. You had no reason to stick your neck out for me like that, and given your own precarious situation—"

"No need to thank me, Anders. You did your part in helping me, too," Aria gently cut him off, popping a grape into her mouth. It was surprisingly delicious and she savored the taste.

Anders chewed his own food thoughtfully, his chin resting on his palm as he studied her for a moment. She cocked her head to the side, curious as to what it was he was thinking.

"What?" she finally asked.

"You seem…different somehow. A lot—nicer."

Aria laughed, genuine mirth bubbling forth from her throat as she threw her head back. "You caught me at a bad time. Last night was a very long one and I was in a right foul mood."

"You mean you didn't go home after that mess in the Chantry?"

"Ha! That was only the beginning," she said, stuffing her mouth full of a cheese and fruit-laden wafer. She chewed it slowly, enjoying how he watched her.

"Do elaborate," he said once she'd finished chewing.

"My friend Aveline required my help. It too, was messy business."

"The dour guard who accompanied us? How so?" he asked, taking a long drink from his goblet. He smiled, impressed with the quality.

"She was chasing a lead on corruption within the guard. There was an ambush and a fellow guardsman almost lost his life. We got there in time, luckily. Now I'm just waiting for her to get back to me about the results of the ensuing investigation," Aria said, loading another wafer with fruit and cheese.

"Corruption in the guard—imagine that," Anders bitterly laughed.

"Mmm. The Guard-Captain, no less."

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely," he said, filling his own mouth.

They ate in comfortable quiet after that, just watching each other. He smiled a lot, an expression that suited him much better than his haunted somberness. She couldn't help the grin that graced her own lips. She rather liked the way his eyes warmed when they rested on her. It sent a thrill through her pulse that she hadn't felt in a long time.

He couldn't get enough of watching her. He loved the way she chewed, not the pristine noblewoman, but not a pig either. She seemed to approach everything with a gusto and vitality that emanated from her like a beacon to a ship in a storm at sea. She just radiated life—he'd never seen someone that stirred him like this.

Maker, but she was lovely tonight. Her hair was twisted and folded ornately, secured on both sides of her head with the most beautiful amethyst and jet-studded combs. Her ocher eyes flashed with life and joy. Her cheeks flushed the loveliest of dusty pinks. Her radiant skin bore the sweetest aroma he'd ever breathed. The simple black dress she wore fit perfectly on her lithe frame, clinging to her trim, warrior figure in all the right, feminine places.

He cleared the table and she poured them some more wine before they resumed conversation.

"So you're a Fereldan too?" he asked, resting his chin in his hand again, his head politely inclined towards her.

"Yes. From Lothering," she answered, smoothing her skirt and swiping away the crumbs that had landed there.

"Lothering? I'm so sorry. You were right at the heart of it," he said, referring to the beginning of the Blight.

"We wouldn't have made it, if not for the Witch of the Wilds herself," Aria relayed, enjoying the spark of curiosity that lit his dark eyes.

"_The_ Witch of the Wilds? Flemeth?" he asked incredulously.

"The one and only. She turned into a dragon and charred the horde, keeping us safe. Then she bore us to the coast so we could sail to Kirkwall."

"That was awfully generous of her," Anders suspiciously stated.

"Mmm, it wasn't without a deal being struck," Aria replied, acknowledging his suspicion.

"Of course. What were the bargain's terms?"

"I haven't yet fulfilled them, actually. I haven't had the means. I will tell you when the time comes," Aria hedged, heeding the warning her conscious laid out to her.

"I will help you, whatever the task. You need only ask," he said, reaching for her hand. He was pleased when she did not withdraw, but rather grasped his in kind. "But answer me this: Why on earth did you come to Kirkwall? Surely Amaranthine or the coastlands would have been sufficient. Especially for an apostate."

Her smile was bitter and he feared he'd touched a nerve. He didn't like how she seemed pained by the question.

"Ah, that. Well, my mother's family used to be nobility in Kirkwall," Aria answered, averting her eyes.

"Used to be? Ah, the mage blood. It ruined them?" he surmised.

She looked up to meet his gaze, for a second forgetting what she was going to say. His eyes had the same effect on her that Ser Devon's used to. She wasn't quite sure how to handle it.

"Not exactly, though I suppose that is part of it," she slowly stated after a few moments. "My family has magic on both sides. My Mother—was engaged to a nobleman. But she fell in love with a Fereldan apostate. My Father. She fled to Ferelden with him and left her noble birthright behind."

"Your grandparents—are they still alive?"

"No. They died many years ago. However, my Grandfather left it all to my Mother. This fact outraged my slippery, useless Uncle Gamlen. He squandered the fortune, gambling it all away."

"Bastard," Anders cursed. "And yet you live with him now? In Lowtown?"

"Unfortunately," Aria said, taking another sip of her wine as Anders released her hand.

He sipped from his goblet, studying her for a moment. She took the time to also study him. He seemed much more relaxed. Much more open. The caginess he'd exhibited last night was gone. He was far more still, far more…tractable.

"I am sorry. Fate has been most unkind to you," he said at last, his now dark eyes compassionate.

"Mmm," she said, swallowing the wine. "Don't be. I'll get it back, and my family's reputation will once again be in good standing. I don't believe in fate, in any case. I believe in action."

He sat back, his expression intrigued. "You don't believe in fate?"

"No, I don't," she firmly stated, her amber eyes holding his, the fires within them roaring to life. "Fate is a coward's excuse for succumbing to defeat. I make my own path, and it is determined only by my actions."

He broadly smiled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling in the most intriguing fashion. She returned the gesture, finishing her wine.

"That—is an interesting philosophy. But what about the Maker's hand? Do you not believe he has a plan for us all?"

"Do you?" she countered, her eyes sparkling flirtatiously.

"I feel that is a baited question," he laughingly hedged.

"Then let it suffice to say that I have no use for any institution that seeks to govern every little intricacy of everyday life. You are a champion of freedom. Do you not believe that everyone is free to decide their own fate then? Good or ill? Maker be damned?"

"Were I of the Chantry, I would accuse you of blasphemy," he said, his tone mockingly serious.

"Still you hedge. And then I could point out a thousand ways you yourself, Revered Mother, are a hypocrite," she giggled.

Anders threw his head back and laughed, leaning back in his chair. "Oh, but you are refreshing to speak to!"

"I'm glad I amuse you," Aria replied, also sitting back in her chair, a benevolent smile on her lips.

"You more than amuse me," he huskily stated, his eyes darkening. It sent her pulse skittering for a few seconds.

"I'm glad of that, too," she softly said.

He chuckled, a low rumbling from deep in his throat. "I find I much enjoy you. It's nice to speak with someone who has their own mind about things. Who isn't easily bullied or afraid to think outside the popular schools of thought."

"Normally, people who bully me end up pushing daisies," she teased, folding her arms on the table in front of her.

"I've borne witness to that," he said, also resting his arms on the table again.

She sighed. "I really do hate to say it, but I fear I must be headed back to Lowtown. There are a few—things I have to do," she said, slowly getting to her feet.

His pulse raced. He wasn't at all ready for her to go yet. He felt he could talk to her all night and not broach the same subject twice.

"Must you?" he said, kicking himself mentally for the desperation that crept into his tone.

"Well, perhaps you could accompany me. I'm going to go to the Hanged Man and have a drink and a chat with my business partner, Varric."

He sighed. He didn't want to leave the clinic for fear of missing someone in need. But tonight, he wanted to put his own needs first for a change. Didn't he deserve it?

"Varric? The rather quiet dwarf?"

Aria burst out laughing, the sound ringing through the small room like the song of birds in a spring meadow and sending his pulse aflutter again. "You don't know Varric well yet. Eventually, you'll be shouting at him to shut up."

"Well, now I have to come," he said. "But why the Hanged Man?"

She shrugged, picking her satchel up from the floor. "It's where he lives. He has a room there."

"I'll gladly accompany you. Just allow me to tidy up a few things before we go."

"Certainly," she allowed.


	8. Chapter SEVEN

**Chapter Seven**

The following few days passed in a happy blur. Aria spent most of her daytime hours in the clinic with Bethany and Anders, aiding the sick. She spent her evenings in the Hanged Man with Varric, Anders, Bethany, and Aveline, sharing battle stories and old tales from Ferelden.

It was good to be finally finding peace and having a group of friends with which she could pass her time. It was the happiest she'd been since before Lothering had been destroyed. Anders was a breath of fresh air to her, lifting her spirit and taking away the edge of the bitterness with which she'd begun to become all too well acquainted.

She was at the clinic with Anders, having ushered out the day's last patient; a young girl with a wicked case of boils. She sat with Anders at his dining table, sharing yet another bottle of wine and talking easily. The past few days, they'd become intensely close.

He was a passionate and compassionate person. He was driven, focused, and kind. She found herself laughing easily with him and thoroughly enjoyed working alongside him. Her Mother and Bethany seemed to be infected with the same joy, the smiles on their faces and light in their eyes reminding her of how it used to be in Lothering, before the world came crashing down around their ears.

Anders invited her to walk with him just outside the city limits at dusk. They sat on a ledge overlooking the Waking Sea and watching the darkness overtake the city. The warm breeze blew in and Aria enjoyed how it felt against her skin, tingly and refreshing.

"I had a friend like you once," Anders said, his tone soft and contemplative. "Got in all kinds of trouble. Dragged me along. Didn't think I'd be doing that again."

Aria laughed and leaned back against the boulder in front of which she sat, folding her arms behind her head as she watched a few gulls lazily circle the harbour.

"After that whole mess with Karl, I got a bit weighty. Sorry for putting that on you," he apologized, tenderly tucking a flyway of her silvery hair behind her ear and letting the back of his hand linger momentarily on her cheek.

"You can tell me anything," Aria softly replied, smiling at him. "Dark secrets, potion recipes…dirty jokes."

He laughed this time and shook his head. "Anything? Be careful what you offer. I just…I hope I didn't seem too selfish when I told you about Justice. I didn't know what would happen. I figured a willing host, a friend…it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"Well, he can't complain about his looks, anyway," Aria quipped, playfully poking him in the side.

"No," he said, his demeanor changing completely. "Look, I know—these last few days have been—some of the best in my life. But, don't go there, Aria. That's not going to end well. I don't…want to hurt you." He looked out over the harbour, his dark eyes growing cold.

She sat up, uncomfortable with the sudden turn of the conversation. Staying true to form, she tried to take some weight out of the exchange.

"Hurt me. I might like it," she playfully said.

He looked at her, and gently took her hand, his eyes pleading. "No. You saw what I did in the Chantry. That's who I am."

She watched him stand and he paced back in forth in front of her for a few moments, reminding her of a caged beast. The restlessness and anxiety she'd first seen in him returned tenfold. It was starting to destroy this little bit of happiness she had so desperately wished for in the past few days.

"A year ago, maybe we could have had something. But I'm not that man anymore. I'll break your heart," he said, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotion. "And that…might kill me as surely as the templars."

Aria stood as well, grabbing his arm to cease his pacing. "Anders—"

"Don't think me ungrateful for all you've done for me already. I don't wish to convey that at all," he said, cupping her face with one hand.

"You can't break my heart any worse than it already is," she softly stated, searching his dark, haunted eyes for the warmth she knew they could possess.

He studied her for a moment, floundering for something to say to that. He hadn't realized—but who could have done that to her? Who could have been so cruel to such a wonderful gem?

"It is already broken? By whom?"

"Not necessarily by whom as much as by what," she said, looking back out over the harbour in the direction of Ferelden.

"You've lost much," he softly acknowledged.

"I've never—well, I might have been in love once. Oddly enough, he was a templar in training."

Anders shook his head. She didn't believe in fate, but he did. And it was definitely cruel to her, twisted and conniving. "He must have been a very good man."

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," she murmured, turning away from the sea and looking down the path that led back to Kirkwall.

"All templars are not evil," he cautiously said. "King Alistair was a templar in training. I met him once. He was more sympathetic to my cause than most Circle mages are."

"It does my heart good to hear you say that," Aria said, smacking the dust off her trousers. "I must be going. I have a long night ahead of me tonight."

He followed her down the trail, looping his arm through hers. "I'm coming with you."

She smiled at him but said nothing more until they reached Lowtown. They stood outside her door in the twilight, the neighbourhood peacefully silent. He smoothed an errant strand of hair away from her face again and tilted her chin up so he could look down into her tawny eyes.

"I have to suit up. It could get bloody," she softly said, her eyes searching his.

"Where shall I meet you?" he queried, still holding her face.

"The Hanged Man. Bethany and Varric will be there as well."

Before she could form another thought, his lips were on hers, his arms going around her waist and pulling her tightly to him. She moaned against his mouth, snaring his neck in her embrace. Warmth surged through her. It had been a long time since she'd felt this and she clung to him, starving.

Her eagerness incited his desire and he slipped his tongue over her bottom lip, delighted when hers responded in kind. She tasted divine—sweet, heady, and enthralling. He crushed her to him, never wanting this moment to end.

Aria buried her fingers in his hair, seeking an anchor in the tempest he'd just started. Her pulse hammered wildly in her ears. His tongue was rough and savory, his touch feral as he pulled her more tightly against him.

His conscience screamed at him. Justice snarled in the back of his mind at this distraction from their cause. He couldn't do this—he knew how it would end. Justice would never grant him the peace enough to pursue her as she deserved. It took all the strength he had to tear his mouth from hers.

She whimpered softly at his departure, her eyes seeking his, pain and questioning in their tawny depths.

"Maker help me," he whispered, cupping her face tenderly in his hands. "Aria—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

The pain that crashed through her at his words stole her breath and stopped her heart. She abruptly removed herself from his embrace, her amber eyes hardening as she stared pointedly at the ground. He tried to lift her chin but she stubbornly jerked her head away, like a spirited horse throwing off the bridle.

"Just—be at the Hanged Man in half an hour," she whispered, her voice steely. She turned from him and stalked inside, quietly closing the door.

He nodded mutely and walked slowly down the steps, his hand over his wildly pounding heart. If he hurt her, it would be his undoing. She deserved so much better, and he could not give it. Sweet Andraste, he wanted to. But the road to the Void was paved with good intentions, and he wasn't going to allow her to be hurt.


	9. Chapter EIGHT

**Chapter Eight**

The group convened at the Hanged Man, Aria the last to show up. Her heart hurt. That's all she could really think of. It felt as though someone had driven a dull knife through her sternum and twisted. The past few days had been so beautiful—she wondered now if she'd only dreamt them. And if she would ever truly feel whole again.

Bethany's dark eyes clouded with concern as her sister slowly trudged up the cobblestone path from Gamlen's hovel to the well-known bar. Varric elbowed the apostate lightly in the side and whispered.

"What happened?"

Bethany only shook her head, her worry evident in the slight creases upon her smooth brow. The glow that had been in Aria's countenance but a few hours ago had gone, replaced by heartrending blankness that was even worse than the bitterness her sister had harboured since their arrival in Kirkwall.

"Are we ready?" Aria asked as she reached them, her voice full of forced cheer.

"Lead the way," Varric said, his keen eye for detail missing nothing. Anders stood apart from them, his own eyes just as haunted as Aria's.

Night had fallen. In the dark, the streets took on a sinister appearance, the shadows of the buildings long and undulating with an evil life of their own in the feeble light offered by the few lit street lanterns. In Lowtown, as soon as the sun was set, the alleyways seemed to come alive with the dregs of Kirkwall's citizenry. It was dangerous, especially if one was known for having coin on them.

They walked up the stairs to the marketplace, which was empty of its usual hustle and bustle. The merchants had left their stands, most of their items either having gone with them or locked away where none could rob them.

True to form, a band of highwaymen bearing the Sharps guild insignias on their shoulders ambushed them. Aria was in a fighting mood. She needed to inflict the hurt she felt on those who tried to assail her. With much more gusto than was probably necessary, she launched herself into the fight.

She charged one of the archers, slicing his throat open before he had the chance to even nock an arrow. In a devastating whirlwind of blades, she spun and danced through their defensive line, unleashing destruction and dealing swift, vicious death.

As she yanked her blade from the last Sharpsman's chest, Varric, Bethany, and Anders caught up with her.

"Maker's breath, Hawke. You do get results," Varric said in astonishment, surveying the carnage with a mix of horror and awe.

"I'm not in the mood for toying with these cretins this evening," she quietly replied, wiping the dagger clean of highwayman blood and sheathing it on her back.

She lifted her gaze, searching for the contact in Athenril's letter and saw a dwarf standing next to one of the merchant's stands. His back was to them and he was reading a scroll. She strode over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Are you Anso?"

The dwarf spun wildly, throwing his hands up as if to ward off a blow. "Ah!" he screamed. "Sweet mother of partha! You can't just run up on someone like that!

Aria glared at him, unimpressed.

"Are you…the human Athenril told me about? The one looking for work?" he asked, his clear grey eyes wide and too big for his face.

"Did you think I was going to attack you?" Aria asked, sheathing the other blade she held in her hand. She had to admit—she had rather enjoyed the terror in his eyes.

"Oh! No, no!" he quickly denied, "Or I hope not, anyhow! My apologies, human. I haven't been on the surface very long. I keep thinking I'll fall up into that sky any minute."

Varric chuckled at this, saying, "Bartrand used to be like that. Got jumpy every time he stepped outside."

"What a bizarre thing to be scared of," Bethany mused.

"But I digress!" the jumpy little dark-haired dwarf continued, his eyes darting from each of them to the next. "I need some help," he said, sounding frightened and whiny. "Rather badly, in fact. Some product of mine has been…misplaced."

Aria crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't tell if his nervousness was an act or a ploy. He seemed a little too slick as he continued when she didn't respond.

"The men who were supposed to deliver it decided not to. If you retrieve my property, I could reward you handsomely?" His simpering, nasally voice trailed off, as if he wasn't too sure about whether or not he could reward them.

"Just what did these men steal?" Aria curtly asked.

His anxiety went up a notch. "Did I say steal? I don't know if I would go that far. They seemed like perfectly reasonable smugglers. They…smiled and everything! The goods are valuable, however. And illegal. And my client wants them very, very badly! You know how these templars can be."

Aria groaned at this. More dealings with templars. Exactly what she did _not_ need. "You're smuggling lyrium to the templars?"

"Maker's breath!" Varric exclaimed, exasperated. "Between the Chantry, the Carta, and the Coterie…"

"Shhh!" Anso squeaked, his apprehensive demeanor grating on her nerves. "By the Paragons! Not so loudly! My word, I'm not cut out for this. I should have taken that job sweeping stables like Mother insisted," he mournfully stated, rubbing his temples with his thick fingers.

"Make it worth my time, and I'll help you," Aria sniped, thoroughly put off by this annoying little man.

"Oh, I will! Or I'll try to. The gentlemen conduct their business at night in a little hovel within the alienage. If you have to kill them, then I guess it can't be avoided," he simpered, wringing his hands together nervously. "But I'm sure they'll be reasonable!" he squeaked as an afterthought.

"C'mon," Aria said, turning towards her companions. "Looks like we are going to go get our hands very dirty."

They went swiftly to the elven alienage, none of them really speaking of anything. Aria could feel their stares at her back. Anders was brooding and apologetic, Varric and Bethany curious as to what had obviously transpired between the two.

As soon as they alighted the steps leading down into the dirty, despair-ridden part of town that housed the city's elven population, more of Sharp's Highwaymen greeted them. Aria attacked with the same fervor and rage as she had before, mercilessly cutting down every thief in her path.

It was a quick affair, affording little banter between their group of vigilantes. Aria worked at the lock on the little hovel with a small hair pin she'd yanked from her head and they moved inside. It was quiet and wreaked of body odor and the stench of stale liquor and cigar smoke. She motioned for her companions to be silent and she listened for signs of any of the highwaymen.

Aria motioned to the door in front of them, alerting the rest of the group to the presence of the criminals. She kicked the door open and they made quick work of the thieves within. They found no chest in that room and continued searching the tiny, dilapidated little house.

After dispatching of the onslaught of marauders who ambushed them, she searched that room for Anso's supposed lyrium cache. The search turned up fruitless, as the chest there was empty. Her ire mounting at having been lured into a game of cat and mouse, she stormed outside to the main room of the hovel.

"It was empty!" Aria raged, her hand turning the doorknob to head back into the alienage.

"Waste of bloody time," Varric added his own sentiment. "Who put us up to this?"

Aria opened the door, glaring at no one in particular as she replied, "I guess we have to go back to Anso and tell him it's empty. Then I'm going to ask him what the hell he's playing at."

Before their feet had even cleared the threshold, a sizeable force of warriors bearing Tevinter arms awaited them, and their faces bore shock when they saw Aria's team.

"That's not the elf!" the female commander of the gang exclaimed.

"Doesn't matter—he said kill whoever comes out of the house," one of the other men said, unsheathing his sword and swinging it, as though it would instill some sort of fear in Aria.

"And it just doesn't end," Aria spat, drawing her daggers and going to work again.

They fought for nearly an hour, dispatching of the group of about twenty men. As the battle was seemingly finished, an impressive looking man descended the steps, his eyes cold and vengeful. His clothing spoke of Tevinter origin. And his demeanor was of one used to being in command. Aria lithely swung her daggers, her wrists flicking them through rigorous, beautiful kata in irksome trepidation.

"I don't know who you are, friend," his gravelly voice sounded as he walked up to them, "But you've made a serious mistake coming here. Lieutenant!" He glanced behind him, then returned his hard gaze to Aria, who glared right back. "I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"

The chink of mail and armour greeted her ears and scraping, weary footsteps followed. A Tevinter soldier appeared, his arm across his chest, his sword hanging limply in his other hand. Blood flowed from under the mail and left pools as he walked.

"Captain!" he gurgled before he fell over to the ground, the life gone from him.

Another figured appeared in the Tevinter soldier's wake, lithe and lanky, and moving with lethal, predatory grace. His head was adorned with reckless, silken, shaggy silver hair. His ears curved to slender tips well away from his head. His gaunt, handsome face was beset with cold, vivid emerald eyes. The most striking thing about him, however, were the shimmering white designs emblazoned on his skin, from his chin to his fingers and everywhere else his skin was visible.

Aria blinked a few times, trying to assess exactly what was happening. He was clearly an elf, but unlike any she had ever before seen. He was tall and lanky, strength radiated from him—and he appeared very, very deadly. His manner was feral, but controlled with ironclad discipline. She readied her daggers, preparing to spring back into battle.

The Captain regarded the newcomer with disgust, sniggering as the impressive elf strode down to them.

"Your men are dead," the elf's deep, raspy voice rent the silence. "And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can." It was not a threat, but more a vow. His tone sent darts of ice singing down her spine.

"You're going nowhere, slave," the Tevinter captain sneered.

Aria hardly had time to blink before white light surrounded the elf and in the same instant, he appeared in front of the captain, his fist slamming clean through the man's chest. He crushed the man's heart right there, blood spewing forth from the cavern his lyrium hand had momentarily created.

"I am _not_ a slave," the elf said, his deep voice low and venomous. He yanked his hand from the man's chest and let him fall to the ground before turning to Aria.

She readied her weapons again, her eyes locked on his, her stance set so that all she need do was spring and the battle would begin anew. A slight, sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his surprisingly tempting mouth but disappeared quickly, replaced by something slightly akin to remorse.

"I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so…numerous," he said, pacing cagily as he spoke.

Aria lowered her weapons, her muscles remaining tense. "Don't worry. We do this sort of thing often," she lightly quipped, her gaze riveted on his face.

"Impressive," he silkily said, his eyes unabashedly traveling the length of her body then returning to hers. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself," he continued, pausing to judge her reaction to this. "They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"That seems like a lot of effort to find one slave," she cautiously replied, sizing him up as he was her, shadowing his movements, her daggers at the ready. It was almost a dance the way they mirrored each other's pacing.

"It is," the elf, Fenris, said, ceasing his pacing for the moment once more.

"Does this have something to do with those markings?" she asked, pointing her dagger at his arms.

He chuckled bitterly, a low grating sound in his throat that made her pulse quicken unexpectedly. "Hmm-hmm—Yes, I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them, I would still be a slave."

"Anso's job did seem a little too easy," she teasingly said.

Anders coughed as though he'd suddenly gasped and accidentally swallowed in the process. She ignored him, though she did garner a sweet little bit of vindictive satisfaction that he'd been pricked by jealousy. Aria decided then that she wasn't going to sit around waiting for life to happen, for love to happen. She was done dealing with the past. It was time to move forward, in every sense of the word.

Fenris's visage waxed apologetic again. "Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustomed to hiding," he said, his voice velvet over crushed diamonds. He looked her in the eyes questioningly. "If I may ask; what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"

Aria shrugged, sighing, "It was empty."

The elf also sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know."

Her curiosity piqued, Aria sought more information. "You were expecting something else?"

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more."

"All that for an empty chest?" Aria asked, her voice teasing again.

The expression on his face hardened and grew bitter. "No," he said, leaning down to search the Tevinter captain whose heart he'd crushed. "It's as I thought," he softly remarked, looking at a piece of parchment he'd fished from the man's corpse. "My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help."

The elf rounded on her, his hard, green eyes drilling straight through her, straight into her soul. It made her uncomfortable, but at the same time, she felt as though something within her was stirring. Something Anders had awoken. However, she had her reservations and his stark expectancy touched a nerve.

"You lured me into a trap and now you want my help?" she asked, doing nothing to keep the bite from her tone.

He chuckled, as though her ire was something he could nonchalantly disregard. "If Anso told you to divert a bunch of Tevinter bounty hunters, would you have done it?"

At this, Varric laughed. "Ha! With the tear she's been on this evening, she'd have probably accepted with a bloodthirsty grin."

Aria shot him a look full of venom. Varric only smiled sweetly back at her.

Fenris chuckled again. "Had I known you earlier, I'd have asked you personally," he said, his eyes giving her the once over again. "I had only Anso to rely on, I fear. I am not lying to you now. Please help me do this."

She looked back at Varric, Anders, and Bethany, trying to gauge their impressions of him. Anders's eyes were dark and cold, affording the elf no courtesy. Bethany seemed innocently intrigued. Varric—Varric was up for anything.

Aria turned back to Fenris, finding him watching her as one would look at an interesting, complex puzzle. "Looks like it's going to be a long night," she relented.

The elf stepped forward, his hand resting on her shoulder, an earnest light in his eyes. "I will find a way to repay you. I swear it. The magister is staying at a mansion in Hightown. Meet me there as soon as you can. We must enter before morning."

Aria watched him sprint away, melting into the shadows with the grace and precision of a fierce nocturnal predator. Her eyes lingered on the last spot she'd glimpsed him for a moment longer than was necessary and when she turned back to her companions, Varric started laughing.

"Blondie, if looks could kill, I think that elf's heart punch maneuver would be rendered absolutely useless."

Anders glared at the dwarf. "I don't like him. He assumes too much."

Bethany gave Aria a knowing smile and shook her head. "Sister, what have you gotten up to now?"

"What?" Aria vexedly asked, sheathing her daggers on her back once more.

Bethany laughed softly to herself. "Nothing. Shall we go?"

"We shall," Aria said, emphasis on the 'we' that implied that Bethany was excluded.

"I'm not going?" Bethany asked, her expression slightly pained.

"Hightown? Fighting in a mansion? Close to where templars and guards patrol routinely?" Varric interjected, coming to Aria's defense.

Bethany groaned. "You know, one of these days I'm not going to listen to you when you tell me to go home."

"But that day isn't today," Aria playfully said. "Go home. I'll be back as soon as I am able."

"All right, sister. But do be careful. I have a bad feeling about this."

They escorted Bethany back to Gamlen's, then headed up to Hightown. As they turned down the street where most of the estates stood, the wan light of the moon glinted off the elf's silvery head, catching her eye. He surreptitiously waved them over.

"No one has left the mansion, but I've heard nothing within," he softly said once they'd reached him where he hid behind the bushes next to the mansion's entrance. "Danarius may know we're here. I wouldn't put it past him."

Aria scanned the mansion's windows, seeking movement or any other telltale sign of occupation. She found none. She turned back to look at Fenris.

"I could stand to know a little more about this Danarius," she quietly said, careful to keep her voice as low as possible.

"He is a magister of the Tevinter Imperium," came Fenris's reply.

Varric groaned. "Oh, is that all? Nothing to worry about then," he said, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"There, he is a wealthy mage with great influence," Fenris said, his voice low and seething. "Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Aria snidely whispered, her eyes sympathizing with Varric.

"I do not fear death," Fenris's voice came soft and chastising. "That does not mean we should be reckless."

Aria shrugged and unsheathed her daggers, flicking her wrists and sending them dancing in her hands. "Let's see what he's up to then, shall we?"

They entered the mansion. A few torches were lit in their sconces, and by their smell they'd been lit for some time. Some of them were smoldering, acrid smoke wafting from their dead embers. They'd burned themselves out.

"I am not afraid of you, Danarius!" Fenris bellowed, brandishing his longsword at the shadows.

As if on cue, several shades appeared from the mansion's dirty stone floor. Aria had never seen one up close, but her father had killed a few back in Lothering while she watched. She attacked them as she would any normal foe, and surely enough, they fell.

There were many of them. They moved like shadows and their otherworldly eyes glowed malevolently in their faceless heads. She darted sideways as one's poisonous claws sought to shred her abdomen, and in her haste, she ran smack into another one.

Its arm snaked around her throat and she flipped the grip on one of her daggers, stabbing it deeply into the demonic form's torso. Its grip tightened and she felt its hot breath on her neck. Fenris lunged in front of her, swinging a devastating, wide arc over her head and rending the spirit's head from its body.

It disappeared in a cloud of noxious smoke that left her gagging. Anders raced to her side, inspecting her for injury. He offered her a small vial of clear, crimson liquid that she drank, murmuring her thanks. He palmed her cheek, his dark eyes boring into her golden brown ones. She realized she'd frightened him and it pained her. She didn't want to hurt him anymore than he wanted to hurt her.

"He sends spirits to do his fighting for him," Fenris rasped, ignoring them for the moment. "Danarius! Can you hear me? Your pets cannot stop us!" the elf raged.

Aria followed him into the next room, a great hall with two staircases that led to a single balcony and blended into the mansion's second floor. They were immediately assaulted by a great number of shades. Joining the shades were rage demons.

As the fight progressed, Aria found herself driven to the other side of the hall. She opened the door at her back to escape, unable to fend off so many foes at once. Anders and Varric were on the stairs, dealing with a group of shades. Fenris finished off a shade he was battling and saw her plight.

She ran into the corridor on the other side of the door, her back to the wall. She engaged the shades again, Fenris attacking their flank while she kept them occupied on the frontline. She whirled and danced, narrowly evading their vicious, poison-tipped claws while her daggers ripped and stabbed at whatever vulnerable points she could recognize and access.

Anders and Varric surged through the door and joined them, rallying them to victory. They searched the rooms on this side of the great hall, finding them empty of the Tevinter magister.

"Probably locked himself in his study," Fenris gratingly stated as they went back to the great hall.

"Don't look now, but I don't think we're quite finished," Aria curtly replied, pointing her dagger at the Arcane Horror that had just appeared on the balcony.

With a cry of independence-fueled rage, Fenris charged up the steps. Aria pursued, Anders and Varric hot on her heels. They dispatched of the small army of shades and rage demons, along with the Horror. They cleared the two rooms on both sides of the giant locked door that led to Danarius's study and found the key for it on the Horror's corpse.

They stormed the study, only to find it empty.

"Gone," Fenris bitterly spat, his shoulders hunching and his head falling, his chin resting on his chest for a moment. He lifted it again a second later, turning to Aria. "I had hoped…no. It doesn't matter any longer," he said, shaking his head to dispel the thought he'd had. "I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I…need some air."

Aria watched him leave, waiting until his silver head disappeared down the steps before turning to Varric and Anders. Varric shrugged and started picking the locks on the many chests in this room. Anders looked through the cupboards and the desk. Aria stood and watched them, ready to battle if any more demonic spirits lingered.

They found some coin purses, some vials containing healing elixirs and lyrium, as well as a few valuable gems. Once they were satisfied with their take, they ventured back down to the great hall. Aria was keenly aware of the weight of Anders's stare and did not object when he drew his arm around her waist as they walked back towards the entrance. Varric wisely kept his mouth shut, though his brows raised slightly when he witnessed their actions.

Anders held the door for her as they exited the mansion and he positioned himself away from her when they joined Fenris on the terrace.

"It never ends," Fenris bitterly stated once Aria had closed the mansion's door, his hands resting on the stone fence as he looked out at the empty street. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and soul," he said, turning to face her, his visage a mask of resentment and hatred. "And now I find myself in the company of more mages." His cold green stare landed directly on Anders.

"Ah, here it comes," Anders sarcastically replied, his eyes pleading with Aria.

"I saw you casting spells inside," Fenris said, his distaste barely contained. "I should have realized sooner what you really were." He turned to Aria, his expression condemnatory. "You harbour a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect. That is in its nature."

"_He_, not 'it'. You're talking about a Grey Warden and a healer," Aria said, springing to Anders's defense, her hand resting carefully on the hilt of her dagger over her shoulder.

Fenris's gaze shifted at her slight movement and his eyes shot back to hers, questioning.

"And a few other things. But let's not mention those," Anders added, his fingers flexing nervously around his staff.

"I'm not blind. I know magic has its uses, and there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others," Fenris retorted, his prejudice openly evident.

"Considering all the curses inflicted upon us, I'd say it's an even trade," Anders replied, his dark eyes flashing and leaving Aria to wonder if Justice was about to rear his vengeful head.

"I imagine I appear ungrateful," Fenris said, turning back to Aria, his eyes sweeping over her again. It made her nervous in a way she didn't quite fully understand. It was as though he was constantly assessing her, grading her, measuring her up against…something. "If so, I apologize, for nothing could be farther from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised," he said, placing a bag of coin in her hand, his touch sending a jolt through her, even in its brevity. He didn't act like it affected him. "Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it."

Aria nodded politely, willing her heart to quit hammering and pocketed the coin, though she had half a mind not to accept it. "You've said Danarius is a magister, but little else."

"In Tevinter, the magisters hold all the power over the Chantry, over the Imperial Court, over life itself," the elf explained, beginning to pace again. He reminded her very much of a caged, wounded animal. A very dangerous, caged, wounded animal. "It is nothing for one to own a slave. Danarius had many, but none he valued so much as me."

"Then how did you get away?" Aria replied, crossing her arms over her chest against the chill the night had taken as a soft breeze blew over them.

"Is it not enough that I did?" Fenris hedged, his green eyes flashing hurt for a brief instant. "I carved my path to freedom in blood. I left that life behind, yet his bounty hunters follow me no matter where I go. I will run no longer."

"Are you going to have a problem with my companions?" Aria queried, indicating Anders with the wave of her hand.

Fenris regarded the mage with cold calculation for a moment. Anders's eyes flashed the same contempt right back at him.

"I will watch them carefully if we travel together. I can promise no more," Fenris finally replied, his words spoken with great caution.

"I'm planning an expedition I might need help with," Aria said, drawing the elf's attention back to her.

He bowed slightly, his eyes boring into hers again. "Fair enough. Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal."


	10. Chapter NINE

**Chapter Nine**

By the time Aria reached the steps leading to Gamlen's hovel, dawn was breaking over the city. Merchants were arriving at their stands and setting up their wares for the day's bargaining. Anders stood there with her, having escorted her once Varric was safely back at the Hanged Man. They had walked in silence, stealing glances at each other, trying to gauge the other's emotional state.

"Aria, listen to me," Anders said as she moved to place a foot on the first step, his hand snagging her elbow gently.

She turned to face him slowly, keeping her eyes down, her foot sliding back off the step.

"Look at me," he gently commanded, his voice breaking.

Aria lifted her head, her eyes finally finding his. They stood there for a moment, gazes locked. She could read remorse and heartbreak in his expression. His eyes pleaded with her, but for what she was uncertain.

"Earlier, when I said we couldn't—"

"What's done is done, Anders," she softly cut him off. "No need to revisit it. Does your stance remain the same?"

"Yes, but if you would just listen—"

"Then we have no more to say to each other on the matter," she interrupted again, her voice tired and flat, her eyes leaving his for favor of her feet again.

He tilted her chin up and cupped her face, desperate to make her understand. He couldn't have her like he wanted, but he wouldn't survive losing her altogether, either. "You have become more precious to me than anything in my life. I am trying, desperately, to make you understand."

"I know your reasons, Anders," she replied, gently taking his hands away from her face and releasing them at his sides. "I just wish—you were surer of yourself. You're stronger than your fear of Justice."

"My fear is not of Justice. Can't you see that?" he begged of her, his dark eyes pools of grief. "My fear is of hurting you."

"Then don't," she flatly replied, turning and making it up three steps before another voice hailed her.

"Hawke! Up bright and early I see! Come! You'll want to see this," Aveline's voice rang out.

Aria groaned and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. It was going to be a very, very long day. She turned in Aveline's direction, finding Anders shaking his head sadly.

"What is it I am going to see?" Aria resignedly asked, coming back down the steps to greet her good friend.

"Justice," Aveline said with a cocky smirk, her emerald eyes sparkling. Anders understandably winced at the term.

"Lead on," Aria said.

Anders fell into step behind the guard, next to Aria. He wouldn't leave her when she was so weary. Especially after the wounds he'd inflicted upon her heart last night. He would make her understand, so that when she looked at him, it didn't shatter him to pieces. He couldn't bear the pain in her eyes, nor could he bear the flatness that had taken them when they used to sizzle and pop with life. But he would not survive it if Justice destroyed her just because she had feelings for him. Or because he had feelings for her.

As they passed through the doors into the guards' quarters at the Viscount's keep, Aria could hear someone yelling. She smiled to herself at the voice.

"How dare you! I am guard captain! I won't be treated like this!"

It was at that moment that Aria, Aveline, and Anders walked into the captain's office. His eyes shot daggers at Aveline.

"Fereldan bitch! This was none of your affair! I'll see you hanged! Quartered! This will not stand!"

Aria watched as the guards dragged the screaming man down the hall. Once they disappeared from sight, she turned to see Seneschal Brann enter the room. He was the Viscount's right hand man, and a royal pain in the ass. Conceited. Haughty. He looked down his nose at everyone who passed by him.

"We found a number of debts to…suspect peoples. Such poor character," he delicately sniffed, as though something particularly foul had just landed under his nose. "But you, Aveline Vallen, have proven your loyalty and ability."

Aveline lifted her head nobly, her back straightening as if she'd been called to attention. "The guard deserves better than him, messere."

"Indeed," Seneschal Brann concurred. A smile split his lips as he continued, "the Viscount would have you put your care for the men into direct practice. You will assume the captain's job."

Aveline's face lit up like a thousand torches. "What?" she asked with pleasant incredulity.

"In due time of course," the Seneschal chuckled, dabbing delicately at his eye as though he'd just made the most hilarious of jokes. "There will be training, approvals. Months, at least. But who better to rebuild respect than the woman who exposed this embarrassment? Resolve any outstanding business, Guardswoman. You will be very busy."

They watched him go and Aria turned to Aveline once he had disappeared from view. Aveline looked starstruck, a smug grin spreading her thin lips.

"Big changes are coming, huh?" she said, her eyes off somewhere in dreams of justice and prosperity. "Captain of the guard. Thank you, Wesley."

"That you keep his memory speaks well of him," Aria ventured, knowing this was a soft spot for her friend.

Aveline turned to her, her green eyes suddenly hard. "He's not with me. I know that. Wesley's at the Maker's side, or he's not. Either way, he knows no pain."

Aria smiled despite the flintiness of her response. "He seemed a good man, for a templar. I'm sure he's found peace."

Aveline nodded. "What I keep is that moment. I won't let anyone down like that again."

"You clearly miss Wesley, but that's not the issue?" Aria ventured.

"Of course I miss him!" Aveline said, sounding wounded. "But he's not coming back. Pining like a child serves no one. So I remember him, but I let him rest."

"You're not so kind to yourself though," Aria pointedly said.

"No," Aveline flatly replied.

Seeing that the topic was clearly finished, Aria's normal humour returned. "I could get used to having the law on my side."

Aveline glared at her, pointing a finger into her chest. "You'll behave yourself, is what you'll do," she threatened. "I just sent Jeven to prison over corruption. I won't go the same road."

Aria pouted, her tawny eyes sparkling even though dark circles had formed under them. "You never let me have any fun."

"I think that's best for everyone," Aveline replied, her tone jovial and teasing.

"I look forward to working with you, Guard-Captain Aveline," Aria giggled.

"Still strange, isn't it?" Aveline mused, more to herself than to anyone else. "Captain of the Guard. Thank you for helping me get here, Hawke. It's where I should be."

Aria bowed and when she straightened, she stretched her arms over her head and yawned.

"Maker's breath, Hawke. You look like hell. Didn't you sleep well last night?" Aveline said, as if she was seeing Aria for the first time today.

Anders chuckled, his chocolate eyes warm and teasing. "She had a long night."

Aveline quirked a brow. "And you had something to do with that?" she said, speaking to the innuendo that Anders hadn't exactly tried to hide when he spoke.

"He did, Varric did, and there was this elf…" Aria hadn't meant to trail off the wistful way she did. It was not unnoticed by Anders and his demeanor instantly changed.

"Hawke!" Aveline gaped. "What in all the Maker's lands—"

"Oh, sweet Andraste Aveline! What do you take me for? Some common Lowtown bar-crawling harlot?" Aria accused, the humour of it all not completely lost on her. "I was up all night chasing down Tevinter slave hunters who were after their master's prize slave. The prize slave happens to be a very…cantankerous, but very unique elf."

"Oh?" Aveline asked, her interest aroused. "I had noise complaints on my desk last night about a mansion in Hightown and it happens to be owned by a Tevinter."

"Yeah, that was us," Anders quipped, his dark eyes hard and cold onyx as he stared at Aria.

"Please tell me you were successful so I don't have to deal with it," Aveline said, sitting down in the captain's chair and looking around what was now her office.

Aria smiled at the expression on Aveline's face. "We were. And now, if you please, I haven't seen my bed in over a day and a half. Though I hate the damn thing, I'm quite happy to go to it."

"Of course, Hawke," Aveline distractedly said.

Anders escorted Aria back to Lowtown. The walk from Hightown had been silent, but she could feel his ire radiating off him in tepid waves. They reached the marketplace before he finally decided to address her.

"Do you think he's attractive?"

She stopped walking and met his gaze, unnerved by the hardness jealousy lent his tone. "Who? The armourer? Ugh. Not at all," she deflected.

"Don't toy with me," he quipped. "You know who I mean."

"Fenris? He is—strange," Aria carefully replied.

"But not in a bad way?" Anders snarled.

Aria sighed. "May I please just go home now? I don't have the strength or energy to fight anymore today."

"He's going to turn you against me."

Aria threw her hands up in the air in exasperation. "Maker's Breath and Andraste's Tits! You really need to make up your damned mind!"

"I have!"

"Oh really? Either I'm yours, or I'm not. Simple as that," she tiredly replied, starting to walk toward her home again. "You can't have me, but not have me."

He shadowed her steps. "It is _not_ as simple as that, Aria!"

She tossed her shoulder, waving her hand in dismissal. "It is that simple."

Anders grabbed her arm and yanked her to him, staring down into her eyes. "The—feelings I have for you, Aria… They'll only lead to your demise, and that would be the end of me."

"How about you do me a favor," she quietly said, venom sluicing her undertone, "and either deny any feeling for me or claim them and deal with the damn consequences as they come."

He released her, throwing his arms up in his own vexed exasperation. "You're dealing with absolutes! There are far too many variables at play here! It's not black and white. It's…all shades of grey."

Aria shook her head and turned away from him, stalking down the street towards home.

"Aria!" he called after her, but she didn't stop, turn, or even indicate she'd heard him. "Aria, please!"

She kept walking. She was tired of this. Either he felt for her, or he didn't. Whether or not his denial was genuine was his to deal with, not hers. She wouldn't live in this world being torn apart by things she couldn't have. She wasn't going to chase dreams that couldn't come true. Nothing good could come of it. No matter how hard he wanted her to understand, she just wanted peace. She felt she deserved that much.

As she walked through the door, Gamlen unleashed another bevy of insults and accusations at her. She drew a blood-stained dagger and pointed it at him, inches from his chest. His eyes widened in shock and his mouth gaped open, but he was blessedly silent.

"Old man, I've had about all I'm going to take out of anyone for at least a week. Call me a whore, accuse me of gallivanting around without a care, and I'll show you _exactly_ what I've really been up to. Would you like a demonstration?" Aria boomed, pressing the dagger just hard enough into his shirt to show she meant every word.

He shook his head.

"Good. Now leave me alone. I haven't slept in over a day and a half, I've dealt with the most caustic personalities, and the next person to piss me off is going to get a dagger clean through their heart. Understood?"

He nodded mutely and she sheathed her dagger, stalking off to her bed. Bethany lay still asleep on the bottom bunk, her face the picture of sweet innocence. Aria smiled and stripped off her armour, then crawled under the scratchy blankets. She was asleep before her head even touched her pillow.


	11. Chapter TEN

**Chapter Ten**

It was nearly dusk when Aria woke. She heard the clinking of metal against metal as her mother prepared the evening meal. Probably a weak stew again. Aria planned on doing some shopping for food at the market again, but the waning light of day told her this venture could not be undertaken until tomorrow.

She lay in her uncomfortable, tiny top bunk for a few moments, just listening. Gamlen was not in the house. From the sounds of it, neither was Bethany. Sighing, she tossed off the thin, scratchy, moth-eaten wool blanket and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Groaning sleepily, she vaulted herself to the floor.

Every muscle in her body was sore, though not as badly as nearly a week ago. She was steadily getting used to this new lifestyle she'd adopted. Her muscles responded more quickly and with more force. Her balance was improving dramatically, though she'd never been called graceless. Her skill with the daggers was leaps and bounds better than what it was a little over a year ago in Lothering.

Maker, had it only been a year? She felt as though she'd aged centuries since then. Sighing, she decided to make her wakefulness known and opened the bedroom door.

"Child of mine, why have you been so late to bed these past couple of weeks?" Leandra Hawke asked from her position by the fire.

Besides the large kettle, the three large buckets they used to heat bathwater were immersed in the coals, their bottoms glowing red.

"Good evening, Mother. I'm sorry—work has kept me out late and there has been naught I could do about it," Aria sweetly replied, kissing the top of her mother's head.

"What work have you been doing? Mercenary work? You aren't back working for Athenril, are you?" her mother asked, fearing for her child's welfare.

"Not directly. I'll have you know last night I spent the night ensuring the freedom of an escaped Tevinter slave," Aria answered, stretching her arms above her head to relieve the knot of tension that coiled in her upper back.

"Your father would be proud," Leandra whispered, stirring the stew on the hearth. "I was going to wake you in a few minutes, but you saved me the trouble. I have some bathwater ready for you at Bethany's behest. She said you would appreciate it."

"And I certainly do," Aria replied, reading more letters for her on the desk. It was then that she noticed the enormous bouquet of lilacs, lavender, white roses, and Andraste's Grace sitting in mother's favorite vase on the work bench. "What are those?"

"Oh! Those are for you. A rather handsome young fellow brought them a few hours ago. He said he wanted to apologize, but for what he did not say."

"What did he look like?" Aria asked, bending to sniff the lilacs and lavender. They were her favorite.

"He was tall. Carried a staff like Bethany. Golden haired and dark-eyed. He looked a mess," Leandra answered. She knew it was Anders.

Aria groaned in response, thumping her forehead against the hovel's wall a few times before turning to her mother, who was smiling secretively to herself as she watched her daughter.

"I think a hot bath is in order. And then I have some business to attend to in Hightown," Aria said when her mother gave her a curious look.

"Is he a noble?" Leandra asked.

"What?"

"The person you are going to see. Is he a noble?"

"I didn't say I was going to see anyone," Aria gently hedged. "I simply have business there tonight."

Leandra simply chuckled to herself and went back to preparing the meal, pointedly ignoring her daughter as she hummed a common Fereldan love song to herself. Aria took the water into the washroom and emptied it into the small tub. She let it cool for a few minutes, letting her sleep-tousled hair down from its pins and combing out the snarls.

She loved these small luxuries. The hot water instantly relaxed and soothed her aching muscles and bones. The scent of the soap Bethany had made for her always chased away her troubles and left her in the most beautifully blissful state. She didn't linger as long as normal, though, wanting to head up to Hightown and chase down some of the leads Athenril had blessed her with before the night got too late. She wanted to be in bed again well before dawn.

Aria reluctantly stood and stepped out of the tub, wrapping a clean sheet around her body. She applied the moisturizing oil she was so fond of to every inch of her skin, then set to work combing her hair. She took the top half of it and secured it in an intricate, elegant knot on top of her head, leaving the rest to flow around her shoulders and down her back. The luminescent, silvery mass cascaded nearly to her waist.

She emerged from the washroom, clad in a soft cream peasant dress popular amongst the slightly better-off in Lowtown. Its bodice was laced with mauve cord and stopped just below the bosom, where the white sewn-in blouse underneath took over. The white bell sleeves were slightly off shoulder. She donned her favorite doeskin boots while sitting at the dining table and ate with her mother.

"You should leave your hair down more often, Aria," her mother said as they began to eat.

"Most of the time I cannot afford to," Aria replied through a mouthful of the surprisingly rich stew. She broke off a piece of the fresh loaf of bread and handed it to her mother before taking a piece for herself.

"You do dangerous work," Leandra acknowledged, delicately chewing a piece of beef that she spooned into her mouth.

"Where is Bethany?" Aria asked after a couple of silent minutes.

"She left with the gentleman that brought the flowers," Leandra said simply.

"Did she say what they were doing?"

"Helping at his clinic. There was a bout of the cough that sprang up and he required her aid."

Aria nodded and lifted her bowl, hungrily drinking the remaining broth. She swiped at her mouth with the flimsy napkin her mother had laid out for her.

"What is going on between you and him?" Leandra asked as her child finished eating and grabbed her implements from the bedroom.

"Absolutely nothing," Aria bitterly said, trying to keep her voice from being too harsh. She strapped the sheaths for her daggers over her shoulders, her mother assisting with buckling them.

Leandra watched as her daughter drew her buff colored cloak on, hiding the daggers sheathed on her shoulders. "It certainly seems as though it's quite a bit more than nothing," Leandra passively stated.

Aria sighed. "It's a case of the wants-but-cannot-have-for-silly-reasons."

"Well, who is the wanter and who is the cannot have?"

At this, Aria had to laugh. "He has feelings for me that he will not engage for fear of hurting me."

Leandra's expression darkened slightly. "That's silly. Why would he hurt you?"

"Mama, he has a very unique set of circumstances. But he doubts his strength, needlessly. And in that doubt, he fears breaking my heart."

"It seems to me, he is doomed to do so no matter what. Might as well enjoy what he can and damn the consequences."

Aria was a little surprised at her mother's liberal train of thought, though it was parallel with her own. "Exactly my thinking." She bent and kissed her mother on the top of the head, holding the hand she extended.

"I hope you're not out too late tonight, my child. You have been so weary as of late."

"I'll try to be back at a decent hour, I promise," Aria said, making her departure.

The heat of the day still radiated off the city's streets and buildings as Aria alighted the steps from Gamlen's house. She quickly walked through Lowtown, drawing the hood of her cloak over her head so that she may pass through this part of town unrecognized.

She nimbly took the steps leading up to Hightown two at a time and removed her hood once she'd cleared them. The heat was stifling, even in the growing dark. She caught one of the merchants Athenril's letter had mentioned as he was closing up his shop.

"Hear you're having problems with the Bone Pit," she said, to the man, Hubert—he ran an eclectic shop renowned for its quality goods. She realized he was the flippant Orlesian she'd talked to a little over a week ago. "I can help."

He threw up his arms. "Eh! Finally someone comes to help me. You look a bit unseasoned, but I hope you will do."

Aria glared at him. "Appearances aren't everything, messere. I may not look the part, but that is my greatest asset."

"Indeed. I had to suspend operations!" he continued with his thick, ridiculous Orlesian accent. "My workers are lost in the mines or have run off. Serves me right for hiring Fereldan refugees. I sent other before, but no word. Perhaps they are putting me off! I need someone competent to figure out what is going on."

Aria's glare hardened. "You said some of your workers are Fereldan?" she said, malice slicing through her voice.

"Yes! All of them. An unruly lot to be sure," he said, oblivious to her change in expression.

"Mind what you say about my countrymen if you wish to have my help at all," she warned, pointedly patting the hilt of one of her daggers over her shoulder.

"I was not referring to you, of course!" the slippery Orlesian backpedaled. "My workers are a particularly desperate sort. They are lucky to work for me. Few in Kirkwall will hire refugees."

"Surely the miners had good reason to leave," Aria accusingly stated.

"I am at a loss," he said, his statement seemingly genuine. "No miner has reported in, and no one takes me seriously."

"The Bone Pit must be dangerous if people are afraid to venture there," she said, her assessment of Hubert not going so well in his favor. He was an idiot, and that was being more than nice.

"No, nothing like that. Pay no heed to local superstition. The Bone Pit is mostly harmless."

Seeing that there was no way to really make any headway with this moron, Aria simply said, "I'll head there soon."

"The sooner the better. Each day the mine is not running costs me more than these miners make in a year. The Bone Pit is just outside the city. Any map will show it," Hubert replied.

_Ha, _she thought to herself. _You're going to wait a while before you hear from me. See how favorable you are towards my countrymen when you've lost your ass in gold._

Aria turned away from him and started walking across the Hightown merchant square, towards the robe shop run by Jean Luc, when she noticed someone leaning on the pillar beside the armour stand to her left. The figure was lean, lank, and lithe and she immediately recognized the silhouette.

Her golden brown gaze met the cool, calculating green one and she stopped. He inclined his silver head politely and gracefully pushed his shoulder off the pillar. She watched him stride towards her, his movements as fluid and loose as a mountain lion.

"My lady," Fenris said as he reached her, offering her his arm. "Why are you in Hightown this evening?"

She fought the blush that rose to her cheeks at his greeting. She wasn't a "Lady". At least, not yet. Perhaps when she took back the Amell estate for her Mother, she would be. But for now, the title was flattering.

"I am chasing down some leads on some work," Aria replied, taking his arm and satisfied that her voice did not give away the fact that she was all aflutter on the inside.

"Any luck?" he asked.

"A little, yes."

"Hubert is a bit on the—willfully ignorant side," Fenris said, his voice deep and slightly raspy.

"Precisely what I was thinking, except in a little less flattering terms," Aria laughed, allowing him to lead her up the steps towards the estates.

"Where is it you are going now?" he asked, turning to look her in the eyes for a brief instant as they walked.

"Actually, I'm just wandering at this point. Had to get out of the house before I murdered my uncle, to be perfectly honest."

"He is particularly irksome?" Fenris asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

She had to consciously force herself to look away from his mouth. "That would be the understatement of the age," she replied darkly, glowering ahead of them.

"So, you are in need of distraction, then?" he asked, turning toward the estate that they'd broken into the night before, the one belonging to Danarius.

"I am, so long as it does not involve the use of weapons, magic, or trickery."

He chuckled at this, a comely, husky, rasping deep within his throat. "In that case, I think I may be able to provide it for you. Come, have a few drinks with me in my stolen palace," he said, opening the door for her.

Aria laughed, throwing her head back slightly. "Oh, such music to my ears," she said, entering the mansion.

Once inside, he took her cloak and hung it on the rack by the door. His skin was quite warm to the touch, as though he had fire coursing through his veins. She supposed it was the lyrium branding that was responsible. Still, she fought the chills that ran through her when his hands lightly brushed her shoulders.

"Go ahead upstairs to the main chamber. I'll be with you in a moment," Fenris gently commanded, his green eyes sparkling.

Aria studied his visage for a few seconds, noting that the harsh lines of anxiety and anger were much less visible. He looked several years younger and there was a vitality to him that was intoxicating. She hadn't garnered any of this last night; today, he was a completely different person. Er, elf, she mentally corrected. Whatever.

She smiled and bowed slightly, then made her way up the grand staircase to the sitting room they'd cleared only the night before. She sat in one of the luxuriously cushioned, ornately carved chairs that stood next to the enormous, lavish table.

Aria looked around the room, noting that much of the damage that had been done in their fight was cleared. It was a rather nice place. Much nicer than Gamlen's, anyway. Just as she was beginning to wonder where he'd disappeared to, the elf ascended the stairs, carrying two bottles of wine. He uncorked one and handed it to her, then uncorked the other for himself. They tapped the rims of the bottles together in a silent toast and took long draws from their respective bottles.

Fenris wiped his lips with his arm and looked at the label on the bottle. "Aggregio Pavali," he said and looked at her, his eyes aglow with an emotion she did not recognize. They were almost too bright, but so mesmerizing she couldn't look away. He took another long draw of it before continuing. "There are six bottles in the cellar. Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed."

Aria nodded, also taking a long sip from her own bottle, which contained a much lighter colored wine. She read the label and found it to be some sort of Moscato. As she lowered the bottle she looked over at him.

His gaze studied her and it set a slow, smoldering sensation to burning within her abdomen. Her heart rate climbed slightly. She fought to keep her breathing even.

"I can't imagine why—perhaps they were more awed than intimidated," Aria said after a minute of locked gazes.

"I'll take that as a compliment," he chuckled, lifting the bottle to his lips and draining the remainder of the wine. He looked at the bottle and with an almost wicked smile, he threw it at the wall. It shattered upon impact, making Aria jump slightly at the noise.

"You could have offered me a glass first, you know," she lightly teased, finishing her own bottle and setting it on the table.

He tipped his head sideways, one brow lifting quizzically. "There's more, if you're really interested," he said, the innuendo in his tone not lost on her.

"Mmm. I've only just met you. I think one bottle of wine would suffice for my visit, lest we get too carried away. Besides, how else would you redecorate the walls?" she saucily replied, leaning back slightly in her chair and stretching her back a little.

He laughed, that low, deep rumble she was beginning to become fond of. "Hmm," he said, looking as though a particularly profound thought had occurred to him. "I've wanted to leave my past behind. But it won't stay there."

He sat next to her, adjusting in his seat so that he was turned toward her. The way he moved… It was mesmerizing to her. She had never seen another being so lithe and powerful; he moved like water over rocks, fluid and strong.

"Tell me, have you never wanted to return to Ferelden?" he asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"I have no home left to return to," Aria softly stated, feeling the effects of the wine already. Maker help her.

"The Blight is over," he said, leaning forward towards her. "You could rebuild what you lost. Do you truly not want to?"

"If I could, I would. There are some memories—best left behind," she replied, glancing down at her hands as she clasped them in her lap. "Even if I wanted to, Kirkwall is my home now."

"Having a place where you can put down roots. I understand. Still, to have the option…must be gratifying," Fenris mused.

The way he looked at her, the intensity of his gaze was unsettling, but not necessarily in a bad way. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, still. He was making her all too aware of her own needs as a mature woman. She shifted in her seat slightly and his eyes flickered over her body for an instant. It brought heat to her cheeks. Thankfully, she could just blame the wine if he asked.

"You've been on the run a long time, then?" she asked, working to keep her voice smooth and nonchalant.

He sighed and sat back, his eyes going to the mantle on the fireplace for a moment and granting her a blessed momentary reprieve. "Three years now. Danarius has a way of finding me—perhaps, it is the markings? Whatever the means, it never takes him long to follow. This is the first time I've given him reason to pause. I suppose there are advantages in numbers," he mused aloud, his gaze returning to her.

"Haven't you sought help before?" Aria asked, surprised.

"Hirelings when I could steal the coin. Never anyone of substance—until you," he said, his voice perceptibly softening for a second, then regaining the flintiness he seemed to reserve for his former master. "Danarius will not give up, however. I await his return."

Aria smiled. "What if he does give up? What then?" she challenged.

"Then I go to him," Fenris bitterly stated. "I will not live with a wolf at my back."

"Were I in your situation, I feel I would do the same," she tactfully said, nervously turning the empty wine bottle on the table so she could look at the logo better.

"If it comes to that," he sighed. "I doubt it will."

"Do you intend to keep living here?" she asked.

He turned a little in his seat again, facing her more easily, his expression open. "I haven't decided. For now, it's as good as any other place. I would return to Seheron if I could but…there is no life for me there."

"Is that where you're from?"

"So I've been told," he replied, his eyes drilling into her soul again.

"Were you very young when you left, then?" she pressed, intrigued to be learning more about this very mysterious elf. She'd never in her life met anyone like him and she found him damnedly interesting.

"Perhaps," he said, leaning forward slightly more.

"I can't imagine a life like that. It must be—very difficult."

His eyes softened slightly, but his teeth seemed to set. "I am not made of glass," he replied. "I should thank you again for helping me against the hunters." His tone was genuinely appreciative.

"Yes, you should," she playfully replied and he returned the flirtatious smile she gave him.

His hand rested on hers on the table then, warm and rough on her much cooler, much smoother skin. "Had I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

She swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat at his touch. "You sound as though you're asking for more," she quietly said, surprised at the slight huskiness in her tone.

He smiled and gently, lingeringly withdrew his hand from atop hers. "Well, this mansion does require some upkeep," he said lightly. He gracefully stood, offering her his arm to help her up.

She took it and allowed him to walk her towards the steps that led into the great hall and out the entryway.

They stood in the foyer for a moment, just watching each other, eyes locked for what seemed like forever but in reality could only have been a minute or less. He broke her gaze in order to fetch her cloak. She allowed him to help her don it, noticing that he inspected the daggers still sheathed on her back for a second before she adjusted the cloak around her shoulders.

"Perhaps I'll work on my flattery for your next visit?" he teased, turning the doorknob and gently tugging the door open, making a sweeping gesture with his arm as he lightly bowed. "With any luck, I'll become better at it."

She laughed despite herself and stepped through the doorway, looking over her shoulder. "I look forward to it. Thank you for the lovely evening."

"My pleasure, my lady," he said.

She continued down the pathway, feeling his gaze on her back as she went. She fought the urge to look back again and get one last glimpse of those intense, green eyes. But she didn't want to seem…desperate? Was that the word? There was a fine line between confident in what one wanted and outright desperation.

Confident in what one wanted. Dear Maker, she wanted that beautiful elf. What was wrong with her? She sighed to herself and drew her hood up over her head, hurrying back to Lowtown. She decided that she would stop in at the Hanged Man and see what Varric was up to. Perhaps he could provide a better distraction. Or at least a distraction from the one she already found and wasn't too comfortable with at the moment.

Maker help her.


	12. Chapter ELEVEN

**Chapter Eleven**

"How long will you be gone?" Bethany asked as she helped her sister pack her satchel. She swatted Aria's hands away when she tried to remove the soap, shampoo, and oil from the pack.

"I'm not quite certain. The Dalish could be anywhere within the mountains and the weather isn't looking to be too favorable," Aria replied, gathering the little vials containing health and stamina renewing potions within them and placing them in the small leather pouches sewn into her belt.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you? Flemeth might be more gracious if both of us come," Bethany worried.

"I'll be fine. Besides, if she turns on me, better that you're here with Mother. She won't survive the loss of another child," Aria softly said, carefully avoiding the look of hurt that swirled within the warm depths of Bethany's dark eyes.

"You think I can't handle myself?"

Aria sighed and straightened, resting her hands on her sister's shoulders and looking her squarely in the eyes. "I know you can handle yourself, Bethany. You're _my_ sister. I just don't want to take the chance that we might both be killed if things go awry. And I know you'll take care of Mother better than I could."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Aria," Bethany said, a slight smile gracing her full lips.

"Neither do you. Now, let's hurry this up, shall we? Fenris and Anders might kill each other before we even leave if we don't."

Bethany helped her pack her remaining hip satchel and backpack, then walked down the stairs from Gamlen's house into the street together.

"This is slightly cruel of you, you know," Bethany gently chastised as they walked towards the gates that stood before the mountains.

"I beg your pardon?" Aria queried, confused.

"Taking Fenris _and_ Anders along."

Aria sighed. "It's not like I had a choice. Aveline is busy now that she's in training for Guard-Captain. I need you here with Mother. Besides, Varric is going. He can help me keep the peace."

"That's not what I mean, Aria," Bethany lightly stated. "Anders—he's hopelessly in love with you."

"Urngh. Not this. Not right now. If he's hopelessly in love, then he can say it to me himself; not use my sister as a pawn to lay guilt trips on me. And besides—this is all _his_ fault in the first place. He claims feelings but won't act on them," Aria flippantly ranted.

"And Fenris has expressed interest in you."

Aria stopped sharply to look at her sister. "What?"

"He's been grilling Varric and me every chance he gets about you. What tastes you have, how many battles you've fought, where we're from, what type of whetting stone you use on your blades," Bethany said, listing the things off on her fingers as she spoke. "He hides his motives very well and carries on decent conversation. But we know what he's really after."

Aria snorted as her sister pointed at her. "He has but passing interest in me. I'm his employer, honestly. It's good to know your boss." She kept walking.

"Deny all you want sister, but you're just as _passively interested_ in him," Bethany teased, jogging to catch up.

"Bah!" Aria said, waving dismissively at her sister.

Bethany laughed. "So why did you meet him in Hightown a few nights ago and drink a bottle of wine with him in his mansion?"

Aria stopped again and rounded on her sister. No one had known about that. Or so she thought. "I didn't—meet him there. I was following a lead from Athenril and talked to that stupid Orlesian, Hubert. Fenris just happened to be there, and I was in a companionable mood so I indulged. It's not like we…we…"

Bethany gasped, her eyes lit playfully within. "Aria!"

"I said we _didn't_, you wretch!" Aria shot back, blushing furiously and continuing stalking towards the gates.

"Uh huh. Just like you and Ser Devon didn't—"

That was going just a little too far. "Please—don't talk about him."

The heartrending pain that crossed Aria's visage lanced through Bethany. "Oh Sister, I'm sorry. I'm getting carried away. It's just—it's good for you, you know? I just am fond of Anders and don't like seeing him hurt, either."

Aria slowed her walking speed a little and looked over at her sister. "Anders's pain is of his own doing," she softly said. "I'm not waiting around for him to change his mind. I want to be happy, too."

"Fair enough," Bethany replied.

"Good. Now, no more talk of men. They're trouble enough and now they're close enough to hear," Aria said, her humour returning.

"Eh, let them. Could do them some good," Bethany said, knowing full well they could now be heard.

"Are we ready?" Aria asked as she strode up to where Anders, Varric, and Fenris waited, their own packs heavy.

"Took you long enough," Varric cajoled. "Let me guess, beauty nap?"

Aria picked up a small stone and launched it at him, hitting him in the breast plate. It bounced harmlessly to the ground and he laughed.

"Come on. We're losing the light and I wanted to be a couple leagues in before we have to make camp," Aria said. She hugged her sister, bade her farewell, and led the way up the winding, rough mountain path.

They had walked all afternoon well into the evening and the multiple groups of bandits that attacked made them even more weary than usual. They were footsore, cranky, and exhausted. They broke to make camp as the sun started to fall just below the treeline.

Anders had set-up the branches for makeshift tents and defensive wards, and was now tending to a wound Varric had sustained from a nastily coated blade in the most recent ambush they'd faced. Fenris was gathering wood for the cook fire in the surrounding forest and hunting pheasant and rabbits for their supper. Aria busied herself with gathering their armour and repairing the damage done.

The sun was below the horizon by the time the cook fire was started. Aria had completely immersed herself in her task, using the luminescent stone Varric had given her. She was oblivious to the world around her and began humming to herself as she worked a few links in Varric's undermail. Before long, the song had formed lyrics in her head and she began to sing.

_Taken away from my home  
Left in this strange land to roam  
Found fortune and blessings  
Amidst many a foe_

_Traveling lonely roads  
Adventures, loot, and gold  
My heart cries for more  
But none are so bold_

Love has no place  
In a world governed apace  
Parrying, evading, and dueling  
Unforgiving, time's rate

_Traveling lonely roads  
Adventures, loot, and gold  
Fate is most unkind  
In these stories to be told_

_Dragons, demons, and mages  
Tales across the ages  
Diaries, tomes, and fantasies  
Kept by silent sages_

_Traveling lonely roads  
Romance, treachery, and rogues  
Warriors' swords and mages' staffs  
Battling for lost souls_

_Wounded, weak, and weary  
Drained of will and clearly  
Fighting is all I know  
Beneath this sky so dreary_

Her voice trailed off as she went back to humming, fighting with a particularly recalcitrant link. She repaired it and moved to the next. A slight mist began, as though her song had called the actual dreariness of the sky into being.

"Is that the end?" Varric asked from beside her, looking up at the sky, no doubt attributing the soft rain's beginning to her musical incantation.

Aria jumped, startled from her song- and work-induced reverie. She looked up and realized that her party members all sat around her, having pulled up chunks of the wood Fenris cleaved for them to sit upon. She hadn't been aware that they were listening. With a mixture of mirth and playful dread, she recognized the storyteller gears turning in Varric's head.

"I guess it is," she answered Varric's query, returning to fixing the armour. She had grown accustomed to the awe-filled stares as of late, but the heat and slight hint of pain in one particular pair of green eyes was enough to bring a slight flush to her cheeks.

"Where'd you hear that?" Anders asked after a few moments had passed. He pulled the hood up on his robes as the mist grew heavier.

"She didn't," Fenris softly said from his perch beside Varric. "It's _her_ song."

"You wrote that?" Anders pressed, leaning closer to her, his eyes widening in appreciation.

"Technically? No. I sang it," Aria teased, finishing the armour and handing it to Varric. She smiled at Anders, who returned the gesture.

"I never took you for a bard, Hawke," Varric said, taking the armour and inspecting it. He set it down, apparently satisfied by his appreciative grin.

"I'm not," Aria replied. "It just felt right. Come on, that pheasant smells ready and I'm famished. Let's eat before that rain really starts to fall."

They all got up and moved closer to the fire, Fenris turning the spit a few more times before removing it from the rack over the flames. Varric cut the surprisingly large bird up and dispensed it between the four of them. Fenris passed a bottle of Danarius's fine wine around, doing well to contain his ire at sharing such finery with an apostate. Anders smiled incitefully as he took a drink from the bottle and handed it to Aria. She shook her head and wiped the rim before taking a long drink. When she handed the bottle to Fenris, he pointedly refused to wipe the bottle's rim. He gave her an odd smile and finished the bottle, licking his lips as he savored the taste. Aria blushed slightly and busied herself with finishing her meal.

As their bellies filled, Varric began a tale of a warrior in love with a slave girl belonging to his commanding noble. Fenris interjected his thoughts on the tale as it was told. Varric graciously accommodated the former slave's views and adjusted accordingly. Anders was surprisingly silent, his eyes darting between Fenris and her. Aria worried that he was plotting something, and she feared its fruition. The tale wound through scenes of battle, tender romance, betrayal, and redemption where it ended with the slave girl sacrificing herself for her warrior lover's life.

Anders stood and stretched once Varric's tale had ended. "Thank you for the bedtime entertainment, Varric," he said, casting a glare in Fenris's direction.

"You're most welcome, Blondie. I expect more tales of yours in return when we get back to Kirkwall," Varric replied, also standing and stretching.

"Draw for first watch?" Aria asked on a yawn before standing with them.

"Yes, I have the stones here," Varric said, producing four stones with numbers engraved into them from a small leather pouch at his waist. "Hawke, with as dangerous as this trek has been, I think it prudent that we double guard on watch," he continued as she took the stones from him.

"Agreed," Fenris chimed in, standing and walking over to the fire. He kicked it out, chuckling to himself when Anders shot him a sour look.

"If we do double guard, I'm _not_ with the elf," Anders spat, joining Varric and Aria.

"You'll go with whomever you draw," Aria barked, quickly deescalating the growing hostility. "One with two, three with four."

Aria put the stones back into the pouch and gave it to Varric. They each drew a stone. Aria and Fenris drew the first watch, Anders and Varric the second. Thankfully, the mage and fugitive would not be on guard together. Aria went to her makeshift tent to fetch her blanket and a book she'd acquired on the journey thus far. Anders was hot on her heels, which was exactly what she feared he would do.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright with him? Can you even trust him?" he whispered as he stepped into the small tent, his words pleading.

Aria sighed, folding the blanket around her shoulders and staring Anders squarely in the face. "By your own words, I shouldn't be alone with you either. But if I put you and Fenris together, you'll kill each other. I need both of you."

Anders moaned in frustration, running his fingers through his tawny hair. "I just…can't stand how he's been looking at you, especially tonight."

"That's what this all is really about?" Aria asked. "Well, I have news for all of you. I belong to no man. And any man who deigns to control me will find himself sorely disappointed, if not brutally dead."

"Aria," Anders pleaded, snatching her hand as she stormed past. "My feelings for you—"

"Don't waste your breath," Aria softly murmured, yanking her hand from his grasp, and refusing to look in his eyes.

They stood in silence for a moment before she stalked off into the woods at the edge of camp. She slid down the trunk of an enormous oak tree until she sat against it on the ground, drawing her knees up to serve as a pedestal upon which she could rest her book. She looked out over the camp, blatantly ignoring Anders' pleading stare from where he stood in front of his tent. Fenris took up a position directly across from her on the other side of camp. She took the small illuminating stone Varric and gifted her, shook it, and slid it along the page as she read her book.

As the night deepened, it grew increasingly cold. Much colder than any of them had anticipated. The drizzle that fell from the sky seeped straight to her bones. This was odd weather for the Free Marches. It hardly dropped below anything that could be considered warm.

A twig snapped to her right. She jumped up and drew her twin daggers, slashing her right-handed weapon down across the shadow that appeared next to her. The clang of metal on metal rent the still night air. It was difficult for her to see her attacker, with the clouds obscuring the blessed light of the moon. Her teeth chattered involuntarily with the cold, and the figure drew their locked blades downward to a neutral stance.

"Be still," the familiar deep voice sounded from the darkness. "It is only me." He stepped from behind the tree, coming into better view.

"Fenris! You scared the life out of me!" Aria hoarsely whispered, sheathing her daggers again. "Is it time?"

He sat next to her and handed her a flask that was surprisingly warm to the touch. "No, but I could hear your teeth chattering from clear across camp."

She groaned quietly. "I can't get warm to s-s-save my soul. I'm s-s-sorry."

"No need to apologize, Aria. Drink. It's a delicacy in Tevinter."

Aria took a tentative sip from the silver flask to test the liquid, then brought it back to her lips for a longer, heartier draught. It was sweet, rich, and unlike anything she had ever tasted. It warmed her belly deliciously and flooded that warmth through her blood.

"This is amazing!" she whispered, "What is it?"

He chuckled quietly. "White chocolate cocoa, goat's milk, cinnamon, and imperial brandy," he replied, leaning close enough that their shoulders and hips touched.

"Mmm. I'm going to have to buy some when we return to Kirkwall. How did you keep it warm?"

"Would you like me to show you?" he softly asked, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, his eyes holding a playful light.

"Certainly," she replied, shivering again.

Fenris drew an arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him.

"Fenris, I—"

"I'm not going to harm you, Aria," he quietly cut her off, pulling her toward him again so that both of his arms surrounded her. "Relax."

She closed her eyes. His nearness, his feral, spicy, and heady scent slammed into her senses. She felt dizzy for a moment—and then, warmth flooded through her, from her toes to her nose. She sighed and found her own arms encircling his waist. He nuzzled her hair and she responded by curling closer, her head resting on his chest.

"Open your eyes and look at me," he whispered after a few minutes had passed, smoothing his hands down her back.

She complied and gasped at the elf before her. His lyrium tattoos were glowing silvery bluish-white, the obvious source of his warmth. He looked down into her eyes, his expression awash with his vulnerability.

"You are…beautiful," Aria breathed, reaching up to touch his face.

He abruptly pulled away, gently pushing her so that she sat upright against the tree again. He stood, the silver flask in his hands once more. He set his lyrium brands to glowing even brighter, then carefully handed the flask back to her.

"We have few hours left of watch. This should keep you warm," he softly, distantly stated, averting his eyes as she accepted the flask.

"Thank you. You are most kind," she replied, her voice breaking slightly as she reeled from his abrupt demeanor changes.

"No, my lady. Thank you," he murmured as he turned to walk away, not sure if she heard him or not. He walked back to his post across camp, masterfully keeping to the shadows so he would not be seen.

She was a puzzle to him. Cunning, skilled in many areas, and a master of two worlds. She lived in acute poverty but had the air and presence of nobility. Not the spoiled, haughty, holier-than-thou type of nobility but rather the type that exuded confidence, temperance, and quiet power. She was an assassin, of that he was absolutely sure and yet, she was a great humanitarian. She existed in purgatory between night and day, black and white, good and evil. She had the better qualities of both and still managed not to compromise them.

Aria had called him beautiful, despite the monstrosity he was. He had shown her the beast within, the demon grafted to his very skin, and rather than run away screaming as he wished she would have, she stood in awe of him. Maker bless her, she reacted the wrong way to everything. But, at the same time, it was the correct way. At least, it was what he wanted her to think of him. He had never even dared to dream that any woman could look past his flaws, his—curse—and still be enamored with him.

He sat down across camp from her, his eyes easily finding her even in the dark. She'd gone back to reading, the soft blue light from the luminescent stone she carried a muted, welcoming beacon in the night. He could just see her face, pale and wraithlike in the soft light. Her expression looked slightly vexed, her brows knitting together just enough to give the hint of internal disquiet.

After quite some time had passed, she lifted the flask to her lips. He watched as she drank a few swallows from the flask, a slight smile playing on her lips. She silently closed the book and stuffed the stone in the satchel at her hip, making her visible no more.

Fenris heaved a quiet sigh. For what good her statement had done him, he knew that she was somehow involved with the mage. The thought brought bile to his throat. To think of that heathen's hands on her, or anyone like her, made his blood boil.

He'd inquired about the nature of her relationship with the healer, seeking his information from the loose-lipped dwarf, the guard-captain, and her sweet sister. Bethany had said that Anders had deep feelings for her, but denied himself and Aria the pleasure of acting upon them. It was, in his opinion, the smartest thing the mage had ever done.

Further than that, Aria seemed to have rejected him, though not willingly. Varric had said the two used to be very close a short time ago, practically joined at the hip—and then something happened. What exactly, no one could say for sure, but Aria had grown cold towards the mage and he had often asked of her forgiveness. Fenris wondered just what Anders had done to turn her so.

The dwarf almost sneaked up on him, but he heard the soft snap of a twig just to his left about twenty yards away that alerted him to the other's presence. Fenris turned and smiled as Varric approached, catching the gleam of a returning smile from the dwarf's teeth.

"You are relieved, messere," Varric quietly said, holding out his hand to help the elf to his feet.

Fenris accepted and nimbly sprang up. "I stand relieved," he replied, bowing slightly and patting the dwarf on the shoulder before walking back into camp.

He sat near the extinguished coals of the fire, feeble warmth still radiating from them even in the dead of night. His elven ears perked as he eavesdropped the conversation happening between Aria and Anders.

"Anything I need to know?" Anders softly said as he tightened Aria's blanket around her shoulders.

"It's been quiet," she replied, refusing to look him in the eyes. He noticed the silver flask she gripped in both hands, keeping her fingers warm.

"Is that Fenris's?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"He gave it to me to keep me warm. It's very cold tonight; unusual weather for the Marches," Aria defensively answered him, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

He brought her closer than was really necessary and she fought the swoon that began to steal over her. She couldn't take the stormy sea her vessel was traveling this night. Ardor then rejection. Hot then cold. They were making her neck ache with their rapid mood swings.

"All you need have done is ask and I could have—"

"You were sleeping. I wasn't going to wake you for that," she quickly replied, gently pushing away from him. He caught her hand on his chest and she could feel the pronounced, slow thud of his heart beneath her palm. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Warmth flooded through her, much the same way it had when Fenris had held her. She delicately removed her hand from his and ducked her head, turning away from him. He sighed and watched her go, not sure what to say.

When she reached the camp, she saw Fenris sitting by the hastily constructed fire pit.

"Go to sleep, Fenris," she gently said, her voice sweet and soft. "We've a long way to go in the morning."

"I just wanted to make sure you had laid to rest first," he congenially replied, swiftly and lithely getting to his feet.

"Thank you. I'm all right," Aria kindly replied, turning for her tent.

"Are you?" Fenris asked, his voice bearing a note of reluctant challenge.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, smiling reassuringly, though there was a lingering sadness in her eyes. "I'm fine, thank you. Good night, Fenris."

"Good night, Aria," he said, watching her disappear beneath the heavy evergreen branch that served as her tent's flap.


	13. Chapter TWELVE

**Chapter Twelve**

Sleep evaded her for most of the remaining night. She was up just as the first telltale signs of dawn began to lighten the eastern horizon. She stayed in her tent as she listened to her companions start the fire again, swathed in her blankets and fingering Flemeth's heavy locket where it hung on her neck.

Varric departed to fetch some water from the nearby creek to fill their water flagons and to cook with. Anders had gone to fetch more wood, unable to stand being around the mage-hating elf. Fenris was stoking the cook fire to a roaring, albeit tiny, inferno in the shallow pit.

It was when Fenris was silent that Aria emerged from her tent. She stretched, feeling a number of vertebrae in her back pop at the action. Fenris sat facing her tent, next to the fire. He watched her, his intense, verdant gaze curious. She offered him a smile and produced a cream from her satchel, dispensing a small dollop on her fingertip. He watched as she used it to brush her teeth.

"What are you doing?" he asked when she turned her back to spit the foam out.

"Have you ever noticed the brightness of Kirkwallers' teeth?" Aria asked, wiping the remainder of the foam from her lips.

"I—had not, until you mention it now," Fenris honestly replied.

"They take powdered seashells, mint extract, and crushed salt and make a paste. Then they rub it on their teeth and gums," she said, sitting across from him. "Makes your teeth last longer and makes your breath quite pleasant."

"Would you mind if I tried it?" he asked, presenting her with the tip of his index finger.

Aria smiled, stood, and dispensed a dollop on it. He looked at her dubiously, one eye hidden beneath the reckless fringe of his silver hair, then popped it into his mouth. He mimicked her actions and after a couple minutes, turned and spat it out. She watched as he ran his tongue over his teeth appreciatively.

"That feels—rather refreshing," he said, smiling at her.

"It's good for you, too," Aria said. "If you'd like, I can have Bethany make some for you."

"I would indeed," Fenris congenially replied.

They sat for a few moments, just watching each other. Fenris seemed almost jovial this morning; as though he was content. The intensity of his gaze did not diminish, however, and she recognized, with discomfort, that she was quite loathe to look away.

"Thank you for the drink last night," Aria said after a moment of awkward silence.

"You needn't. It was my pleasure," he quickly said. "I was thinking."

"Hmm? About?"

"About that song you sang. Or rather, the fact that you sing."

Aria laughed lightly. "And? I hope it wasn't too terrible. I'm a bit out of practice. It's been…a long time."

"On the contrary, you have a lovely voice." She blushed but did not reply. "It is curious," he continued, the light in his vibrant, dark green eyes playful.

"Do elaborate," she laughingly said, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees.

"Your name is a play on words, and an unusually accurate one," Fenris said.

"I'm not sure I understand," Aria replied.

"Aria Hawke. An aria is a part of an opera, usually written to showcase the talent of a soprano songstress. I was privy to many a performance with my former master. And Hawke is, simply put, a bird. So, Aria Hawke, in literal translation, is Song Bird."

"But the hawk is a bird of prey, so this is a song bird who'll rip your guts out with her talons. At least she'll sing a pretty song as she does it," Varric said from behind them, his voice lilting and teasing.

"There is that, yes," Fenris chuckled, his voice velvet over crushed diamonds.

"Thank you for that oh-so-insightful clarification, Varric," Aria quipped, her tawny eyes playful.

"It is a service I am happy to render, madam," Varric chivalrously replied, bowing deeply. "Has the Song Bird a ditty to grace us with whilst I prepare breakfast?"

Aria threw a handful of dirt at him.

"I fancy not, then," Varric chuckled, setting their water vessels down and nestling the iron pot full of water into the coals.

"Fancy what?" Anders asked as he entered their campsite, his arms laden with the dead wood he'd gathered from the surrounding forest.

"He wants me to sing again," Aria answered, inclining her head as he inclined his in greeting.

"You should," Anders said, offering her a kind, happy smile.

"I'm not going to burst into song about every little thing. Breakfast is hardly something to sing about," Aria deflected, mirth bubbling in her throat and spicing her words.

"I staunchly disagree," Varric said. "It's definitely something to sing about."

"Oh just make the food. I'm going to go scout the trail ahead," Aria deflected, standing and checking her daggers in their sheaths on her back.

"Don't be too long," Varric replied. "Grub will be ready before you know it."

Aria waved his words off and left them, grateful for being alone. She made her way through the forest to the well-worn trail and headed up the mountainside. She read the tracks, finding little human or elf foot traffic. She did find plenty of deer, mountain goat, hare, and wolf tracks. She also found the scat of a mountain lion that was fresh—it looked and smelled as though it was only left the night previous.

The path divided into a fork about half a mile from where their camp lay. She scouted each path for another half mile each, finding the one that wound higher up the mountain to be heavy with elven tracks. They were close.

Happy with her discovery, she raced back to camp.

"We were going to come looking in a couple more minutes," Varric said as she jogged into camp.

The tents Anders had fashioned for them were gone, returned to their previous forested state. The cook fire had been extinguished and next to it, a large clay bowl sat on a hot rock. It was full of gruel and next to it lay a slab of the pheasant meat from the night previous. Fenris had gone into the woods, telling Varric and Anders he would return shortly. Anders sat next to the extinguished fire, polishing his mage staff.

She ate quickly and true to his word, Fenris returned shortly before she finished. She cleaned the dish in the ash of the fire and gave it to Varric to carry. Then, they were on their way. They followed the path Aria had scouted and within a few hours of brisk travel, they reached the edge of the Dalish camp. Two guards, a male and a female elf with impressive bows on their backs, stood watch on the path, which was well defended by rock faces on either side that stretched a good thirty feet above them.

"Hold, shemlen!" the male guard hollered as the travelers came into view. "Your kind are not welcome among the Dalish!"

Aria took the amulet from around her neck, garnering curious stares from her companions. She held it up in the sunlight for the elves to see before speaking. "I was given an amulet for someone named Marethari," she simply said.

"How do you know that name?" the male elf accusingly spat, drawing his bow, an arrow already nocked.

"Wait!" the female elven guard cried, staying his bow with a firm touch on his forearm. "This is the one the Keeper spoke of."

"A shemlen?" the male said, turning to the female in disbelief. "I thought she'd be an elf."

"Enter the camp," the woman said, turning and opening an arm from her side. "Keeper Marethari has been waiting for you."

As they proceeded past the guards, the man said, "Cause trouble, and you'll meet our blades, stranger."

Fenris chuckled low in his throat at this and Aria shot him a warning glare. He shrugged in response and they continued through the camp. The Dales were not a friendly folk. They were wild, undoubtedly farther from human than any of the city-dwelling elves. They were free, and they bowed to no one but nature.

Aria figured the elf with the least amount of malice in her eyes was the one she wanted to talk to. She strode up to the elderly woman, whose face was adorned with cheery yellow tattoos in whimsical, beautiful designs on her face.

"Marethari?" Aria asked. "I was told to bring you this amulet."

The elven matriarch smiled kindly, her feral eyes taking in the amulet with relief and caution. She held out her hand and Aria was all too happy to be free of the dreadful thing.

"Andaran atish'an, travelers," the woman said as she held the amulet. "I am Keeper Marethari," she continued, her eyes taking in each one of them and pausing for a moment on Aria. "Let me look at you," she said, gently touching Aria's cheek. "There is a light in your heart, human. Don't let it go out. You will need it. Tell me how this burden fell to you, child."

Aria was slightly unnerved by the Keeper's words. Her voice shook a little as she responded, "This amulet's owner rescued my family from the Blight. In return, I agreed to bring it to you."

"I honor you for coming to me, but I'm afraid your part in this is not done yet," she said, her voice cool and smooth as a mountain stream. Her eyes held sadness as she continued, "The amulet must be taken to an altar at the top of the mountain, and given a Dalish rite for the departed. Then, return the amulet to me. Do this, and your debt will be repaid."

Aria took the amulet and looked over it, then turned her questioning gaze back to the Keeper. "Are you…going to teach me this rite for the departed?"

"I will send my First with you," Keeper Marethari said, "She will see to it the ritual is done and when it is complete, I must ask that you take her with you when you go."

"Uh-oh," Varric murmured under his breath.

" Who is your First?"Aria queried, "First of what?"

"Your people would call her my apprentice or heir," the Keeper explained. "Merrill would have taken my place as Keeper. But she has chosen a new path. Please, guide her safely from here."

"This is…an odd request," Aria stated plainly. "I thought the Dalish stay together."

"You know of the people?" Keeper Marethari asked, her brows slightly elevating in surprise.

"Very little," Aria honestly said.

"It is her wish and I must grant it," The Keeper replied, a deep sorrow in her features at the words. "You'll find Merrill waiting for you on the trail just up the mountain. Dareth shiral."

Having obviously been dismissed by the elder elf, Aria walked through the camp towards the path that led up the mountain.

"Oh hey! Nature! I've heard about this," Varric sarcastically said as he narrowly evaded stepping in a fresh pile of deer excrement. "Thought it was just a rumor."

Anders burst into a fit of laughter. Fenris's mouth quirked slightly. Aria joined Anders in laughing.

"Oh Varric, what would I do without you?" Aria laughed.

"You wouldn't be anywhere near as popular. Duh," Varric dead-panned.

"Ouch," Aria said, feigning a dagger to the heart. Anders and Varric chuckled. Fenris…did not find it so funny.

"Seems pretty strange of a Keeper to want to cut her apprentice free," Anders said after they'd walked for a few more minutes.

"What other path could she choose, I wonder?" Aria added.

"Maybe she fell in love with a handsome dwarf and wants to elope," Varric chimed in.

"And then he rejects her because he can't bear cheating on his crossbow," Anders retorted.

"That, Blondie, is why I'm the storyteller and you are not," Varric laughed.

They rounded a bend and saw the hunched figure of an elf on the path. There was a ball of twinkling light in her palm and strange, ethereal voices coming from it. She rounded on them as soon as she heard their approach, the light disappearing with the closing of her hand.

She was lithe, delicate, and very pretty. Just like most of the elves Aria had seen. Her hair was a lovely reddish brown, kept rather short, with beaded streams at odd intervals. Her eyes were quite close in color to Fenris's. Her green frock was adorned with intricately woven designs and she carried an ornate staff.

"Oh! I didn't hear," she gushed as soon as they came up. "You must be the one the Keeper told me about. Aneth era. I'm so sorry. I didn't ask your name. Unless…it's not rude to ask a human their name is it? I'm Merrill. Which you probably knew already. I'm rambling, sorry."

Aria was impressed with how quickly the little imp spoke. She seemed easily distracted but eager to please. Still, Aria was intrigued by the ball of light.

"Did you hear that strange noise?" she pointedly asked.

"Oh…I didn't hear anything."

Aria made a mental note to keep an eye on this one, but decided to drop the subject for now. "Why are you leaving the Dalish for Kirkwall?" Aria asked, changing gears.

"Here we go. On with the interrogation phase," Varric sighed.

"She got you too?" Anders quipped.

"I like to know who I'm working with. It's good for keeping your skin on your back and your innards from becoming outards," Aria sniped to the peanut gallery.

"Innards from becoming outards… I'm so using that," Varric said, shaking his head.

"I'm confused," Merrill simply stated, regarding them all with the most dear look of befuddlement.

"Nothing," Aria chuckled. "Why are you leaving the Dalish?"

Merrill became instantly defensive, her eyes meeting Aria's sharply and her voice shooting up a bit. "I have to. Let's leave it at that for now, all right?"

"Easy, I'm not going for confrontation. Just curious," Aria placatingly replied. "And you'll have to work harder than that to offend me. My name's Aria. Aria Hawke. The dwarf here is Varric, that's Anders, and the elf is Fenris."

"Thank you. I'm afraid I'm not very experienced with your kind. The Keeper said you came from Ferelden. I spent most of my life there. We only came north a few years ago. Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?"

Aria was much intrigued by this character before her. Merrill gave the impression of being surprisingly bright but also very dim. She smiled benignly and looked around her before replying.

"I miss the cold. And the dirt. Kirkwall's not brown enough for me. But hey, no darkspawn at every turn!" Aria quipped.

"Ferelden wasn't that brown! The dirt and muck gave it character!" Merrill said, then as a swift afterthought, "Oh, you were joking. Right. We should go. Your task is for Asha'bellanar. It's not wise to make her wait."

"Yes, well, I imagine if it's the same person I'm thinking of, her patience has already been sorely tested. Let's get this over with," Aria replied on a sigh, checking her daggers.

They followed Merrill up the rugged, awkward, deep path, clambering over boulders and climbing through the rough, plentiful foliage. They reached a small plateau which was adorned with ancient looking burial mounds.

Just as Varric was starting to make some snide comment about nature again, the earth began to quiver beneath their feet. Aria had hardly drawn her daggers before a nightmarish squad of reanimated corpses and skeletons sprang from the ground, showering them all with putrid earth. They attacked and the small group of travelers sprang into action.

Luckily enough, they were easy to fell. A couple of well placed hits with a sword and they shattered, their brittle bones and fetid flesh turning to dust. Aria had hardly broken a sweat before the little battle was finished. The biggest thing she'd garnered from the battle was something that she had already suspected: Merrill was a practitioner of magic.

"The Keeper didn't mention you were a mage," Aria cautiously stated, carefully gauging Anders's and Fenris's reactions to the question. Anders was nonplussed. Fenris looked as though he'd stepped in something particularly foul.

"I imagine it's difficult to give away something nobody wants," Fenris growled, keeping his enormous longsword drawn and both hands on the hilt.

Merrill shot him a venomous look before turning back to Aria. "All Keepers know a bit of old magic," she said, sounding as though relaying a well-known children's tale to a complete idiot. "The stories tell us that all elvhen once had the gift, but like so many things, it was lost. It's a Keeper's job to remember, to restore what we can."

"Can't demons possess Dalish mages?" Aria asked, ignoring the glare Anders shot at her.

"It can happen," Merrill hastily hedged, making Aria instantly nervous. "And when it does, the clan must hunt and kill their own Keeper."

Aria chuckled and clapped a hand on the apprentice's shoulder. "Keep turning skeletons into toads for us."

Merrill's face was blank for a moment, no doubt confused again. "But I never—Right, not literally. Happy to help," she said, blush staining her fair cheeks.

"You look like you've fought before," Aria said, following as Merrill started climbing the path again.

"I've done a little fighting before, but it was always alone," the Dalish almost sadly replied. "I'll try not to hit anyone," she quickly added, her earnestness endearing. "On our side, I mean. I'm babbling. Let's go."

Aria and Varric chuckled together and kept following their elven guide. They reached another small plateau and were greeted, none too appreciatively, by a Dalish hunter. He regarded Merrill with open contempt.

"So the Keeper finally found someone to take you away from here," he sneered at her, his tawny eyes glinting unchecked malice.

"Yes," Merrill sharply replied, lifting her chin in defiance.

The Dalish hunter looked to Aria then. "Then finish your task quickly, human. We cannot be rid of this one too soon." He bounded lightly down the path from whence they'd just come, shooting a venomous glare at Merrill over his shoulder before he disappeared from view.

"Hmm. I'm sensing a story here," Varric smoothly said, his eyes on Merrill.

Merrill rounded on him, her earlier defensiveness piqued. "I have made my choice. And I will save our clan, whatever they think," she said, pointedly glaring at where the other Dalish had previously disappeared down the path.

"What's going on here, Merrill?" Aria asked, her own nerves singing with anxiety. This was not at all what she had expected would happen when she came here.

"Nothing," Merrill said, a little too quickly and her voice a little too squeaky. "Just ignorance. We should go."

Fenris sighed heavily and Anders shook his head. Aria and Varric exchanged apprehensive glances before following after the elven mage again. The next plateau they reached was blocked by a landslide. Aria inspected it, but found no prudent course to further their ascent. Merrill informed her that there was a cave up ahead that would take them where they needed to go.

"A cave… That's not ominous at all, no no," Varric groused as they reached the cave's mouth.

"I'm sorry," Merrill said, standing next to Aria as they contemplated the entrance. "You're not really seeing the Dalish at their best. We're good people that look out for each other. Just not today, apparently."

Aria rolled her eyes. "But the Dalish are delightful!" she said, her voice sickly sweet. "I was just thinking of inviting the whole clan over for tea!"

Merrill grinned widely at her, her green eyes sparkling. "I'm sure they'd accept an—Oh. Right. Sarcasm," she said, her mirth falling. "Even if my people don't appreciate my efforts, I must see this through. Let's go. Asha'bellanar isn't known for her patience."

"You keep saying that and it really doesn't help allay my concerns," Aria groaned, following the elf into the cavern.

Inside, a bit of sunlight lanced through a hole in the cave's ceiling. Before they could get too far, however, they were attacked by enormous cave spiders that were sure to give Aria nightmares for weeks. Sure, there had been huge spiders near Lothering in the Korcari Wilds, but it didn't mean she enjoyed meeting them.

Once they'd dispatched the arachnids, they ventured farther in. A heady wind blew through the cave and Aria could see sky through the cavern wall. They hadn't reached the cave exit yet when yet another attack ensued.

This time, besides more spiders of course, some long-forgotten spirits attacked. Their breath was foul. Their eyes glowed an unnerving blood red and their bodies were hard and twisted. She plunged her dagger through one's eye socket and it disappeared in a puff of noxious smoke.

Knowing that caves like this often harboured forgotten treasure, she took a quick look around. Aria found an ancient chest whose locking mechanism had long since rusted away. She found some little healing vials and some ancient looking gloves, but nothing more of use.

Merrill was impatiently tapping her foot next to the hole in the cavern wall as Aria finished pillaging.

"Asha'bellanar can wait five more minutes. I'm sure it won't kill her," Aria said as she followed the elf through to the other side.

"I think being turned into a toad will be the least of your problems," Anders chuckled, sidling up next to her. Their shoulders bumped amiably as they navigated the narrow cavern.

"Story of my life," Aria laughed.

"I'm beginning to see," he said, and their gazes met fleetingly.

She felt nervous again with the heat of his soft, dark gaze and they continued out into the open. A refreshing wind washed away the dank, sour smell of the cavern and they strode out onto a high cliff that overlooked the rest of the mountain range. It was breathtaking and made Aria realize just how small she really was in the grand scheme of things.

At the only path leading along the cliff, an ominous, magical barrier sizzled and hummed before them. Aria scouted around it while Anders and Merrill examined the barrier itself. As Aria returned to the group, Merrill spoke up.

"I can open the way forward. One moment," she said, producing a small, wickedly-edged knife and cutting her palm open. She said some eerie incantation in which her voice took on a sinister, ethereal quality—like a voice from another world joined hers, its timbre much deeper and malevolent.

The barrier disappeared with a sickening "crack!" and the path was clear.

"Blood magic?" Fenris growled, though it was more a statement than a question. "Foolish. Very foolish."

"Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing," Merrill snapped at him, sounding as though she was trying to convince herself above anyone else. "The spirit helped us, didn't it?"

Aria groaned. "Sure, demons are very helpful…right up until they take your mind and turn you into a monster."

Merrill rounded on her, her green eyes too large for her face as she grew defensive again. "Well, yes. But that won't happen. I know how to defend myself. Be careful up ahead," she said, stepping through the path where the barrier had existed.

They followed her down the path, which led to another burial ground. Strange, large stones littered the place and an unsettling energy coursed through the very air. The hair on the back of Aria's neck stood up and she snapped her wrists, whirling her daggers in apprehension.

"Restless spirits prowl the heights," Merrill said as they entered the ancient burial ground. "In the days of Arlathan, the elders came here to sleep," she explained, her fingers lightly tracing along the runes carved into the stones in an almost loving fashion, "Uthenera. The endless dream, they called it. But they don't sleep peacefully anymore."

As if her words were the secret code that needed to be uttered, several spirits appeared in solid form. They were much like the ones the group had encountered in the cave, except these were stronger and filled with even more malice, if it was even possible.

Aria snapped into action, her patience at its end. She wanted this bloody excursion over with. She was hot, tired, cranky, and in need of a bath. Silly as it was, Aria was very fond of cleanliness. She hated having the dust and odor of battle clinging to her.

A rather large entity stood near a large stone altar. Aria launched herself at it, instinct driving her to take on the most formidable foe. Its mouth widened in a horrific bloodlust grin, its rotten teeth dripping with the most noxious, disgusting green slime. Its cold eyes glared at her like blood-filled lanterns. She sidestepped the swipe it made with its rusted, black blade and whirled in an arc, driving both her blades into its back then quickly retreating.

It chased her and she blocked the murderous blows it rained down on her with its demonic blade. She parried and evaded, moving like a dancer engaged in a highly advanced number with the spirit. She drove and ducked, striking deep blows at its core, then whirling again to do the same to its back. It struck a couple of blows against the hard leather of her armour, gouging through in one spot on her abdomen. Luckily, she was moving away as it happened and the wound was but a shallow scratch. She grew enraged and unleashed a bevy of swift, devastating attacks.

Finally, it fell to its skeletal knees and she slashed down with all her strength, rending its head from its body and sending it crashing forward onto the ground. The matter within dispersed in a cloud of putrid smoke, leaving the rotted armour and robes behind, flat and lifeless on the ground.

As she finished, she looked up and saw her companions watching. She realized her heels rested just at the edge of the precipice by the altar. Before vertigo could steal her sense, she took a few steps forward, then looked back over the edge. She shivered. Heights had never been her favorite thing in the world.

"Can we _please_ get this shit over with now?" she agitatedly asked, sheathing her daggers and looking at the altar.

"Y-y-yes. Let's," Merrill stammered, taking the amulet that Aria proffered. "Hahren na melana sahlin," she said, her voice smooth and the foreign tongue beautiful. She looked to the sky and continued, "Emm ir abelas souver'inan isala hamin vherran him dor'felas." She placed the amulet on the altar then. "In uthenera na revas."

The amulet began to glow, then emitted a shower of rays of every color imaginable. The rays of light converged and coalesced into the form of the woman Aria had met as the darkspawn ravaged Lothering. She was a tall, regal old woman. Her amber eyes spoke of wisdom far beyond the beautiful but old visage could possibly know. Her pewter hair swirled together on the sides of her head forming two great horns and two smaller tines tipped in scarlet. The rest fell down her back in shimmering, dark silver waves.

"Aaaah, and here we are!" the Witch of the Wilds said, her regal, pewter head turning to appraise the people before her, her voice pleased.

"A witch!" Fenris shouted, drawing his blade again in alarm.

"It's all right, Fenris!" Merrill said, staying his hand. "She means us no harm. Andaran atish'an, Asha'bellanar," she continued, striding forward and kneeling before Flemeth.

"One of the people, I see, so young and bright. Do you know who I am beyond that title?"

Merrill did not look up as she said, "I know only a little."

"Then stand," Flemeth graciously said, "The people bend their knee too quickly." Her gaze leveled on Aria. "How refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of a bargain. I half-expected my amulet to end up in a merchant's pocket!"

Aria was a little stung by the lack of faith. "I agreed to deliver the amulet, though you could have told me you were inside it."

Flemeth's lips turned up slightly at the corners, her bright, amber eyes amused. "Just a piece. A small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security, should the inevitable occur. And if I know my Morrigan, it already has."

"You are no simple witch," Fenris said then, his expression one of careful awe.

"Figured that out yourself, did you?" Flemeth chuckled sarcastically.

"I have seen powerful mages, spirits, and abominations. But you are none of those things. What are you?" he asked, his tone taking on an accusatory note.

"Such a curious lad," Flemeth venomously drawled, her voice low and seductive. "The chains are broken, but are you truly free?"

Fenris seemed impressed. "You see a great deal."

"I am a fly in the ointment. I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman. More than that, you need not know," she said, her gaze appraising him further. He lifted his chin defiantly.

"Should I know who Morrigan is?" Aria asked, eager to get this whole meeting over with.

"She is a girl who thinks she knows what's what better than me or anyone. Ha ha! As I raised her to be. I could not expect less."

"I am not sure whether she's your daughter or enemy," Aria cautiously ventured.

"Neither is she," Flemeth slyly replied.

"You should have told me what I would face," Aria boldly stated, not too happy about a spirit almost knocking her off a cliff to a grisly death.

"Did I trick you?" Flemeth silkily said, the sinister undertone not going unnoticed by Aria, "I asked you to bring the amulet and you did. If I thought it such an easy task, I might have asked anyone. But you have succeeded where others would not."

"You have plans, I take it?" Aria asked, her eyes on Flemeth's.

The witch smiled slowly, almost sadly. "Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We have much to do. But before I go, a word of advice?"

Aria nodded tersely. Flemeth continued as though her permission didn't matter.

"We stand upon a precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment, and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn you can fly," she cryptically said, the light in her eyes almost merry.

"What should I do?" Aria asked, slightly confused. Was she being literal or figurative?

"Do as I do," Flemeth barked, laughing as she continued, "Become a dragon!" She grew instantly serious and mocking as she said, "You could never be a dragon." The witch turned to Merrill, her expression almost motherly. "As for you child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Ma serannas, Asha'bellanar," Merrill said, bowing.

"Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks—and my sympathy."

They watched as she glowed again and her form shifted into that of a great dragon. She flew away over the mountains and a chill ran through Aria. The witch's warning could not be taken lightly. But she could not yet see how the world was so doomed. The Blight had been defeated. Where then, was the threat?

They made good time heading back to camp, mostly silent as they all considered their own thoughts. Aria was most surprised that Anders had said nothing to the witch. She had figured out of all of them, he would be most eager to engage her in conversation. She was very old and knew more than any being alive.

Anders stopped her after he saw blood seeping down her abdomen, over her hip, and down her thigh. The party stopped while he tended her, his expression relieved when she removed the thick leather plate and allowed him to look at the wound. She blushed at the scrutiny in both his and Fenris's gaze. Her torso was covered in naught but a thin camisole and her brassiere, leaving her quite open for perusal. Anders tenderly lifted the shredded, blood-soaked part of her camisole and murmured something arcane, his hand smoothing almost erotically over her abdomen. She could feel the wound close with a hot, tingling sensation and there was a dull ache that seared her lower abdomen.

"You were lucky," he said as he helped her put her armour back on.

"Hawke makes her own luck," Varric chuckled, keeping his gaze averted from the other rogue.

"She was reckless," Fenris growled haughtily. "If she hadn't stricken him down when she did, she would have either been pushed off the cliff or disemboweled."

Aria turned to say something, but Anders cut in, his tone incensed and his dark eyes cold as black diamonds.

"Any warrior faces the same plight every time they decide to engage blades," he snapped. "I've no doubt she's every bit as skilled as you, if not more so."

"I wasn't insulting her skill," Fenris coolly stated, his brow arching in amusement. "I simply said she was reckless. That she still lives is testament to that skill. But one day," he said, his gaze going to Aria, "you may not be able to jump headlong into the fray and come out alive."

Aria looked between both Anders and Fenris for a moment, plucking at the lacing in her armour to tighten it. They both looked expectantly back at her; Anders for justification, Fenris in amusement.

"We're all alive. Let's just go home. I'm done with all of this," Aria finally said, twirling her dagger over her head in a gesture that encompassed the entire area.

It took much less time to reach the camp than it had to get to the altar. Aria was thankful for this and more than eager to get back to Kirkwall. She wanted to put this place far, far behind her. As they strode into the camp, the glares Merrill garnered set Aria's teeth on edge. She didn't want any trouble—all she had wanted to do was pay her debt and leave. Getting dragged into this was a thorn in her side.

"Ma serannas, child. Your debt is paid in full," Keeper Marethari said as Aria gladly gave her the amulet. She turned to Merrill, her golden eyes pained. "It isn't too late to change your mind, da'len."

Merrill bowed, her eyes cold and distant. "Dareth shiral, Keeper," she said flatly, turning to Aria. "I'm ready. Let's depart."

Aria bowed to the Keeper and followed Merrill out of the camp, wondering exactly what she had just gotten herself into. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, Mother always said. She thought she finally understood the old adage.

They traveled the rest of the afternoon and through the night, reaching Kirkwall as the light of dawn touched the twin statues in the harbour. The travelers escorted Merrill to the elven alienage near the docks on the other side of Lowtown.

Merrill talked to an elven merchant about housing and procured a disused little hovel for herself. Aria waited while the transaction was completed, noting the excitement that raced through the alienage at having a true Dalish First among them.

Finally, Merrill stepped back into the alienage square where Aria, Anders, Fenris, and Varric waited, seeing through their obligation to the Keeper.

"Elgar'nan," Merrill softly whispered as she came back to where the group of vagabonds stood. "Is this…is this really where the elves live?"

"This is it," Fenris dryly stated, his brooding demeanor back in full force.

"Not the prettiest part of Kirkwall, but it doesn't have a view of the giant chains. Take what you can get," Varric comically added.

Merrill took in the rest of the alienage, noting the inhabitants and how they gawked at her. "I didn't think it would be so…so… I've never seen so many people in one place before. It seems so lonely."

"Try to think of it as…yet another adventure," Aria smoothly said, curling an arm around the elf's shoulders. "You have a lot to give your peers. I wager your council will be much appreciated."

"Some adventurer I am," Merrill replied. "Barely set out and I'm already daunted. Thank you for everything. For all your help. Will you come visit me? Not now, of course. But maybe later? I could use a friend."

The question stung Aria and she felt the elf's loneliness more profoundly than she had at first realized. "Of course. But only because you used that 'you kicked my puppy' voice," Aria gently stated, putting a casual distance between herself and the elf. She meant it. She felt she had a friend in Merrill.

"Thank you. Oh! I'm thanking you too much, aren't I? I mean it though," the Dalish First said, walking back towards her hovel.

Aria watched her go, making sure she was safely creating her own little nesting place before she ventured away from the alienage. Anders, Varric, and Fenris followed, Fenris's glare alerting her, wearily, to his staunch disapproval at having helped a mage. Aria vowed to herself that she'd make it up to him later. But for now, she wanted to go home, take a long hot bath, and sleep. Tomorrow was yet another day and she didn't exactly look forward to it.


	14. Chapter THIRTEEN

**Chapter Thirteen**

When she returned home that afternoon, Bethany engulfed her in a hug at the door. Her mother and Gamlen were not present. She was thankful that the weasel wasn't there, but slightly aggrieved that her mother was not. Bethany had a bath prepared in no time, thanks to her magic, and Aria gratefully slipped into the thick foam and hot water. Bethany sat next to the tub while her sister bathed.

"So it went all right then?" Bethany asked once Aria had relayed the adventure's outcomes.

"Yes," Aria sighed gratefully. "Except I fear I may have made an enemy of Fenris, and Anders is becoming far more complicated."

"Fenris was angry that you helped a mage," Bethany stated.

"In short, yes. He was intrigued by Flemeth though."

"Intrigued? You mean he didn't spit scathing insults at her and tell her she should be bound and gagged?"

Aria chuckled throatily at this. "He didn't quite know what to think of her. He wasn't afraid, nor was he outright angry. Well, about Flemeth anyway. Merrill, the elf mage, used blood magic. I think that makes her 'most depraved' number one in his book."

Bethany shook her head sadly. "A blood mage? In the alienage? That's wise."

Her sarcasm was quite evident. "I know, but what could I do? You'll like her, actually. She's kind of awkward and flighty, in an endearing sort of way. Varric likes her."

"Well, if Varric likes her," Bethany chortled, not needing to finish that sentence. "I would like to meet her though."

"Perhaps we may visit her tomorrow," Aria softly said, sinking lower into the water. "Oh sister, you are too good to me."

"Pfff! I did it for myself as much as you," Bethany scoffed. "You should have smelled yourself."

"Oh stop it!" Aria squealed, splashing a handful of foam and hot water at her sister. "I did _not_ smell that bad!"

Bethany giggled. "You're right, you didn't. But I can't not give you hell for leaving me here."

"There were a lot of ambushes, a lot of creatures, and a lot of spirits. I'm thankful you were here. Let the rest of them get killed—but not you."

"That's a terribly selfish thing to say," Bethany scolded gently.

"It isn't, because I don't do it for myself. I do it for mother," Aria retorted.

"I know, Aria. It's just—I hate that you're the one who has to be in danger all the time. I know, I have to worry about the Circle and the templars, but they won't outright kill me. You're putting your life on the line all the time while I sit idly by like a scared rabbit in a hole."

"That doesn't make you a coward and you have done so much good for our countrymen. The work you do with Anders is vital to the refugees' survival."

"You are being far too modest sister. I saw the gouge in your armour when you walked in. And the blood that stains your clothes. Anders healed you?"

Aria sank under the water before answering, only continuing the conversation when she wiped the foam and soap from her head and face after emerging.

"Yes. And between you and me, I can't take it if that man touches me," Aria replied at last.

"Oh it can't be that awful!" Bethany shouted, rolling her eyes.

"It's not. That's the problem," Aria moaned, covering her face with her hands.

"I see. And he won't…" she trailed off, looking to Aria to finish the thought.

"He won't."

"Perhaps I should write Ser Devon a letter," Bethany teased.

"And people call _me_ a shrew," Aria laughed. "I'm fairly certain a man like him was snatched up by some comely Denerim maiden and has a gaggle of children by now."

"Well, then you're better off. You hate children."

Aria threw another handful of water and suds at her sister. "I don't hate them! I just don't want them. Big difference."

"But why? You'd be a wonderful mother!"

"Right. I'd take them on ambushes with bandits and into caves with the giant spiders. It would be an incredible learning experience!"

"You won't be fighting for forever, you know. Someday, you'll be a wealthy, affluent, influential woman and you'll have men courting you at every turn. Good men. With pedigrees," Bethany said, looking haughty.

"I don't want a man with a pedigree."

"No, you want a man with a purpose. Except, you're only drawn to men whose purpose is bigger than their want of you."

It stung, but it was true. Ser Devon was of the Order and answered the higher calling of the Chantry and the Maker. Anders had Justice and his freedom fight for magic. Fenris…he was hellbent on making Danarius pay at any cost.

"Sister, I'm sorry—I didn't mean—" Bethany started after Aria was silent for several moments.

"No, Bethany. You're right," Aria softly replied.

"You're the only woman capable of keeping them from going too far. You're the only woman strong enough to save them from self-destruction. It is your burden to bear—just don't be afraid to cast it off should it threaten your life," Bethany sweetly said.

"When did you get so wise?" Aria teased, throwing a sprig of lavender that floated in the foam at her sister.

"When you became so strong," Bethany simply stated.

They smiled at each other and were silent. Aria scrubbed her hair with the lavish shampoo and Bethany used a pitcher of warm water to rinse it for her. They didn't speak again until Aria was allowing the cream rinse to soak into her hair and scalp.

"I have a feeling that all of this…this fighting, this good-deed-doing, this emerging triangle or whatever the hell it is… It's only going to get worse. I fear that there will not be an end. That we will not have happy endings. That the sadness and despair will only take root and grow, and never be cut down," Aria said as she rested her back against the small, cramped tub.

"The end is what you make it," Bethany said. "One of the most intelligent, dynamic, and bravest people I know said that."

"Oh ha-ha," Aria snidely laughed, the light in her eyes playful. "All right, what do you want?"

Bethany laughed loudly and heartily. "I want nothing. I'm just glad you're home. I fear more and more for you every day. To hear the things people say on the streets—I fear you're right. There is much more coming. But, I know too, that you can handle anything that comes your way."

"Do not fear for me," Aria gently said. "I am—well-protected."

"A bonus from having your companions in love with you?" Bethany teased.

"Oh bugger off it!" Aria hollered, splashing water at her sister again.

"It is entertaining, you know," Bethany chided, ignoring the water that penetrated her skirt.

"I'm so glad you find my predicaments so amusing," Aria leeringly retorted.

"Mmm, so does Varric. I'm certain he'll have a lovely addition to his forthcoming periodical," Bethany said, standing. "I'll be at the Hanged Man or at the clinic. Talk to you later, sister."

"Later," Aria agreed, slipping below the surface to rinse the cream from her hair. She emerged from under the water and decided that it was time for her to get out of the bath. The water was dirty and beginning to cool off too rapidly. She covered herself in a couple of large towels, then walked to her bedroom.

She quickly donned her only clean pair of black knit panties, a black lace brassiere that she'd bought last week, black suede leggings, and a black peasant blouse that was utilitarian but also reasonably fashionable. She did her hair in its usual ornate bun, keeping it all up out of her face. Next, she tugged on her black doeskin boots and her leather weapons harness for her daggers. Lastly, she donned her favorite hooded cloak to conceal her daggers and protect her shoulders and head from the late afternoon sun.

It was terribly hot today and Aria was seriously reconsidering the wonderful idea she'd had in wearing all black clothes. It wasn't so bad when she reached Hightown and the breeze from the sea hit her. She took a stroll through the Chantry gardens, finding it incredibly soothing among the flowers and the larks. She snipped a few sprigs of lavender, a couple handfuls of vanilla blossoms, and a few buds of sage and deposited them in her satchel. Her stocks of soaps were starting to dwindle and she needed the items so Bethany could craft it for her. Aria also clipped a number of dark purple lilac buds and hid them in her satchel so that Bethany could make some potpourri for their room out of it.

When she left the gardens, she noticed a shadow at the top of one of the walls. She caught it just out of the corner of her eye and when she turned her head it was gone. Sighing, she unsheathed her main hand dagger, using her cloak to keep it concealed. She yanked her hood up and proceeded through the gates, making her way towards the Hightown markets.

She was stopped when someone called out a name that could only mean her.

"Song bird!" the voice addressed her from nearly twenty feet away. It was given low, meant for only her ears.

Aria turned to face the voice, her tawny eyes searching, her hood falling back. She caught movement in the shadows near the entrance to the estates. The silvery head in the dark was a dead giveaway.

"Fenris?" Aria asked, sheathing her dagger and crouching into the shadow with him.

"You are quite bold stealing flowers from the Chantry," he said as she joined him.

"And you are quite bold for following me. I planted half the lavender and all of the vanilla flowers in that garden, if you must know. It's a community thing. Everyone gives, everyone takes," Aria challenged.

"What are you doing with them?" he queried, his emerald green eyes nearly glowing in the darkness.

"Bethany crafts soaps and the like for me," Aria answered.

He leaned close and touched his nose to her hairline, just below her ear. She shuddered as he breathed in deeply. He noticed the goosebumps on her arms and his mouth briefly quirked at one corner.

"You always smell divine," Fenris huskily stated.

"And you always look it," Aria replied, clapping a hand over her mouth. "I don't know what's gotten in to me—"

Fenris chuckled, leaning toward her and tenderly pushing her cloak away from her shoulders. "You are a beautiful woman, Aria Hawke."

"You're an intoxicating presence, Fenris," she headily came back.

"Aria," he sighed, his hands going down her bare arms. "I must be off. I just saw you enter the gardens and figured I'd keep a look out for you. One can never be too careful in this city."

Aria smiled ruefully as she allowed him to pull her to her feet. "I can hold my own. Thanks for the extra security. But before you go, I want to apologize."

He tilted his head quizzically to the side. "For?"

"I know it wasn't easy for you to help a mage."

"Just so long as you realize and bear in mind the fact that she is a blood mage and can't be trusted," he said, his eyes riveted on hers. "There is no need for apology. Just extra vigilance."

"I'll do my best," she replied softly.

"What Marethari said," he continued, striding back up to her. "What do you think she meant?"

Aria was silent for a moment, keenly aware of how he kept breathing deeply, inhaling her perfume. "I don't know, to be honest. There's a number of ways it could be interpreted, I suppose."

"And of the Witch?"

"Hers was most cryptic of all, though she seems to be well aware of you," Aria said.

His expression grew contemplative as he considered the long shadows that covered the corridors and arches in darkness. "I believe that I'm not yet truly free, but I will be. How beautiful will that day be, when I can finally claim ownership of myself?"

Aria laid a hand on his shoulder, alarmed by the heat of his skin. He was always so incredibly warm. "You already can. The only one who doesn't know it yet is Danarius. And we'll take care of him."

"Thank you, Aria," he said, looking down into her eyes.

"You're welcome, Fenris," she replied, gently backing away from him.

He gave her a half-smile, then turned and disappeared into the shadows. Aria pulled her cloak back around her and darted through the courtyards down the steps and to the market place. She quickly descended the steps to Lowtown and raced home.

She quickly dropped her foraged vegetation off at Gamlen's, perturbed that no one was home. Gamlen was probably in the Blooming Rose, but Mother's absence was a bit more hard, and unsettling to try and explain. She decided to try her luck at the Hanged Man and see if Bethany was there.

As she strode in, she noticed a little scuffle going on at the bar. One of the local tavern rats, Lucky, was hassling an obviously Rivaini woman. She was dark skinned, buxom, and lithe, her movement suggesting that she was no stranger to libidinous endeavors. Her jewelry and dress spoke of time spent at sea.

"You owe us, Isabela," Lucky, a tall, reddish-blond brutish man was saying to the Rivaini, who kept her back to him. He rounded the bar so that he was in front of her, seeking intimidation.

"Well Lucky, I'll tell you what," the Rivaini, Isabela, sweetly drawled. "Since the information you gave me was worth nothing…that's what I'll pay you."

"Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch," Lucky cursed, sidling up to her and grabbing her arm.

Isabela tilted her head and leaned closer to him, purring "Oh you poor, sweet thing." She tilted her head more and was a hair's breadth from kissing him when she grabbed a handful of his hair and slammed his head on the bar.

She instantly sprang into action, fending off and disabling the other two louts who had accompanied Lucky this evening. Just as she disabled the last of the two, Lucky moved to strike. She whirled impressively and came to a sudden, swift halt, the blade of her dagger just beginning to worry the fine hairs on his throat.

"Tell me, Lucky: Is this worth dying for?"

The hooligans swiftly departed. Isabela leveled her dark, stormy hazel stare on Aria, a suggestive smile curling her lips. Aria nodded politely and bounded up the steps to Varric's quarters, feeling the Rivaini's gaze upon her rather than seeing it. To her surprise, she found everyone but Aveline and Fenris already there.

"Oho! The hero deigns to grace us with her presence!" Varric cheered as Aria poked her silvery head in.

"Haha! I'm so glad you decided to come out tonight, sister!" Bethany said, her pretty, fair cheeks flushed dusty rose with the effects of the mead. She was quite stunning, with her pale skin, her short, shiny dark hair, and her compassionate, soft, doe-like eyes.

"Come, pull up a stool and I'll buy you a drink," Anders said, tugging an empty stool out from under the table next to him.

"So long as it stays under five tonight, guys," Aria laughed, accepting the seat he offered.

"Five what?" said Merrill, hiccupping.

"Never you mind, Daisy," Varric laughed. "Hawke's just trying to be a spoil sport."

The servant girl, Norah, came up with a tray loaded with all manners of tankards and alcohol. There was dwarven ale, Fereldan ale, Kirkwaller ale, meads from all over the world, and a few shots of clear liquid that Aria knew was not water. She took one of the small glasses and sniffed.

"Careful, Hawke," Varric chortled. "That'll put you on your ass!"

"What is it?" Aria asked, bringing the little shot glass to her lips.

"Moonshine," Varric answered. "Finest in Kirkwall. Guaranteed to put you down where you stand."

"Huh," Aria nonchalantly said, draining the shot and slamming it on the table. "We'll just have to see about that, now won't we?"

They all burst into cheers and took their own tankards from the tray. They all knocked the rims of them together in friendly toasts, then settled back down to drinking and storytelling. Varric began with a tale that he'd just written.

"Hawke, Blondie, you might want to cover your ears for this one," Varric said before starting.

Aria looked to Anders, who smiled back at her. He slipped his hand over her knee beneath the table where no one could see. Aria fought to keep her breathing even and her heart from hammering a hole through her chest.

"I think we'll be just fine," Anders said.

Varric's tale was a simple, embellished recounting of their most recent quest, in which they brought Merrill down to the alienage and gave Flemeth back her locket. Merrill didn't realize this until very late in the story, where she often interjected with her own thoughts. Varric was gracious as usual and incorporated her takes on the plot into the telling.

When he got to the part where Aria had felled the Arcane Horror and found herself narrowly evading the cliff face, Varric made up a new twist in which the mage and the elf both reached for her and pulled her back. He embellished again, saying the mage and elf crossed blades over the matter of the lady's affections, but the handsome, gilt-tongued dwarf rogue in the party settled them down. The elven mage they'd come across did the ritual with the locket and the witch Flemeth appeared, giving each of them a piece of advice that they would do well to heed.

As the story came to an end, when Asha'bellanar flew away, Varric made his own little prophecy.

"As the dragon-formed Flemeth took to the sky, her mighty wings thumping like the beat of a giant heart and her roar heard for miles, the heroes revisited the witch's words to them, her warnings. The Lady was especially troubled, but she needn't be. While she may not have the wings of a dragon to lift her, she has so many more to choose from. The Lady Hawke need not fear falling. She already knows she can fly," Varric tenderly stated, his eyes on Aria's. "And that, my friends, is a tale for next time!"

They all clapped. Bethany dabbed at the tears that formed in the corners of her eyes, her gaze meeting with Aria's for a moment. She smiled and reached across the table, grasping her sister's hand. Aria couldn't speak. Varric had such a way with words. She wanted to say something sarcastic to diffuse the sappiness of the situation but couldn't find the right thing to say. Merrill was gazing starry-eyed at Varric.

"What a beautiful story," Merrill said, resting her head on her folded arms where they rested on the table. "I hadn't seen it like that at all. Can you really fly, Aria?"

Aria laughed. "I haven't any real wings, Merrill. Varric meant figuratively."

"Figuratively. Oh right, not literally! But then, what does it mean?"

Anders chuckled, his hand still resting on Aria's knee, squeezing gently. "It means, Merrill, that she has people who will catch her should she fall. And if she cannot be caught, well, there are those of us who will employ whatever means necessary to ensure her survival."

He looked into Aria's eyes as he said this, fighting the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks flushed and she timidly smiled back at him.

"Oh! She has us!" Merrill giggled, nearly falling off her stool. It was enough to snap Anders and Aria out of the trance they'd been in.

Aria hurriedly snatched a pint of the Kirkwaller Mead and chugged about half of it before rejoining the conversation. Varric meanwhile cut Daisy off from further imbibing. She had a hard enough time finding her way around Lowtown, let alone doing it drunk in the dark.

"So what's next, Hawke?" Varric queried, lifting his tankard to his lips and finishing it. The display between her and Anders had been carefully observed, much to Aria's dismay.

"There's plenty to be done. I've been hunting down leads Athenril's been sending my way."

"I thought you weren't working with her anymore," Bethany pouted. "Aria, you promised—"

"It's nothing like what we used to do, Bethany," Aria quickly consoled. "It's just security on shipments, tracking down missing items, oh—and I forgot. We have to go to the Bone Pit for Hubert. Figure out why the miners have stopped reporting in."

Varric groaned. "And when are we supposed to be doing all of this?"

At this, Aria grinned rather devilishly. "Well, I'm dangling Hubert by his purse strings a little. Thinks he can insult a Fereldan to their face and they won't do anything about it. I guess we could have gone a few days ago, but he's losing his ass in gold every day that I hold off. I figured I'd bleed him a bit, then help."

Varric laughed heartily. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Hawke."

"Oh you needn't worry. You don't speak with an Orlesian accent," Aria retorted.

Just then a knock sounded on the door. They all looked up to see a beautiful, buxom Rivaini pirate woman standing there. Her eyes leveled on Aria. Varric stood.

"Ah, Rivaini! Come to join the party?" Varric cajoled, waving the woman in.

She bowed respectfully and entered, pulling a stool out next to Aria. She extended her hand to the other rogue, and Aria took it.

"You're new around here aren't you?" she asked as she sat down. "Welcome, and keep your wits about you. You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab both," she said, taking the tankard Varric proffered.

Aria sat back a little, her posture assuming a defensive stance, her hand sneaking up her cloak to her shoulder and resting on the hilt of one of her daggers. "Speaking from experience, are we?"

The woman, Isabela, Lucky had called her, laughed low and suggestively in her throat. "After a few broken fingers here and there, they got the idea," she said, looking Aria over. "You needn't be so cautious. If I wanted to hurt you, you'd already be dead."

"I highly doubt that, Madam, and you're not at all welcome to try," Anders coldly said, his eyes hard as onyx.

The Rivaini chuckled again and turned her attention back to Aria. Aria got the distinct impression that she was being sized up—like a prize stallion at market. It set her teeth on edge and she kept her fingers on the hilt of the dagger.

"I'm Isabela," the Rivaini said, taking a swig from the tankard Varric had given her. "Previously 'Captain Isabela'. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow. You're Fereldan, aren't you?"

Aria nodded tersely, not giving any more details away before she could do her own feeling out.

"You have that look about you. I was in Denerim not too long ago. You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have," Isabela continued.

Aria sighed and sat back in her chair, glaring at the ceiling for a second before leveling her tawny stare on the Rivaini. "Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?"

"Must be something in the water," Isabela warmly chuckled. "Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel—if I win, he leaves me alone. But, I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."

Aria turned her head to look at the woman, who smiled seductively and placed her hand on Aria's thigh, leaning in slightly so that their faces were closer. "What makes you think I'm right for this?" Aria coldly asked, not batting an eyelash as the pirate's face stopped mere inches from her own.

"You saw me talking to Lucky, didn't you?" she almost purred, the honey in the mead evident on her breath. "Those boys couldn't manage simple information-gathering. I can't trust the riff raff in this place to do anything right. But you…" she said, trailing a finger down Aria's arm. "You're different."

Aria sighed and took a long draught from the tankard in front of her. She slammed the empty vessel down and looked back at the Rivaini, who still sat way too close. "I think I could manage watching your back."

Isabela sat back, a throaty chuckle bubbling from her mouth. "I'll bet you can," she said, licking her lips. "I've arranged t meet Hayder in Hightown after dark five days from now. I'll meet you there." She stood and made her exit, stopping at the door to turn and address Varric. "Thanks for the mead, handsome. I'll see you around."

"Anytime, Rivaini," Varric chuckled as she shut the door.

"I do not like her," Anders said as soon as the pirate's boot steps were out of hearing range.

"She's—interesting," Merrill chimed. "I like her skin. It's very dark and very mysterious."

"Ah, Daisy. You must learn to be careful," Varric chuckled.

"I don't like her either," Bethany softly added.

"She's a pirate. A temptress. A rogue. She's driven, focused, and talented in her own ways. But I will never trust a word she says if it doesn't involve some gain for her. Altruism is not in her nature and she'll be quick to sell you out if her hide is in danger," Aria said, dragging the other shot of moonshine across the table with the tip of her index finger.

"An accurate assessment," Varric laughed. "And are you so rattled that you need that, Hawke?"

Aria cast him a sidelong grin, her tawny eyes sparkling mischief. "Rattled? Ser Dwarf, you wound me. Rattled am I not. However, I am thirsty and a fire in my belly would be much appreciated. So," she said, lifting the little glass to her lips. "Down the hatch!"

They cheered when she slammed the little glass on the table. Varric rang the servant bell for Norah and they continued talking amongst themselves well into the night. It was nearly midnight when Merrill took her leave, escorted by Bethany.

To their surprise, no sooner had the two mages left, when Aveline came tromping in.

"Oh, you would not _believe_ the headache nobles can give you," Aveline said as she sat down and took the pint of Kirkwaller ale that Varric gave her. "Thank you, Varric. I trust your mission to the Dales went well?" Her gaze circulated quickly around the room, meeting each of theirs in turn.

"It did. You actually just missed our newest addition," Aria said, smiling as Norah entered the room with a fresh tray of tankards. Aria was quick to hand over the necessary silvers and left Norah a generous tip. Varric nodded his head in thanks that Aria bought this round.

"I had heard there was a new Dalish in the alienage. Is she dangerous?"

Anders snorted. "Depends. She's whimsical and a bit daft. Oh, and she consorts with demons so… No, no real danger. None at all."

Aveline's green gaze spat sparks as she turned to Aria. "Hawke?" she said, her voice commanding an answer.

"Oh for the love of Andraste," Aria said, elbowing Anders in the ribs. She took a hearty swig from her pint of mead and continued. "She's a Dalish First. She was supposed to inherit the Keeper's responsibilities, but she is obsessed with recovering Dalish history and artifacts. She's actually very friendly and one of the nicest, most absent-minded creatures you'll ever meet."

"But she consorts with demons," Aveline said, not won by the gloss Aria had thrown over the subject.

"Yes, and Anders is a spirit abomination," Aria said. "Your point, messere?"

Anders glowered at Aria, but the slight smile tugging at his lips made her ignore it. Aveline sighed heavily and took another long drink.

"Just see to it that she doesn't cause any trouble," Aveline admonished. "So how'd the mission go, besides bringing back a Dalish?"

"Hawke almost took a tumble," Anders said, barbing Aria for her crack on Justice.

"What?" Aveline said, her eyes going wide with horror.

"They make mountains out of molehills," Aria exasperatedly said, throwing up her arms. "There was this wretched spirit who just would not die. He had me at the ledge, but I smote him down. I won. It lost. End of story."

"Sounds pretty serious. But you can handle yourself," Aveline replied coolly.

"So what about those nobles giving you a headache?" Varric pressed, his elbows on the table as he cupped his chin. He was always eager for information and Aveline was privy to some real gems.

"Maker help me. If I had all day to spend concocting complaints to rain down on the Guard-Captain, I'd do much better than these lot. They constantly complain about the estate Fenris is in. It's in slight disrepair, but there are estates that are worse. And, they've complained that the name Hawke is more esteemed than their own houses and they want to put a ban on ever uttering the word," Aveline launched into her vexation, smirking at Aria as she recounted that last bit.

"Oh stop it. They did not either. But what about this thing with Fenris? Is it serious? Is he in danger?" Aria asked, kicking herself for the look of pure jealous hatred that washed over Anders's face.

"Not immediately, no. But if he doesn't do something about the appearance of that mansion, I may not be able to hold off his—eventual eviction if it comes to it," Aveline said. "They don't know he's there, I think. But they complain that the estate's condition brings down the values of their own estates."

"Hmm," Varric said, stroking his chin between his index and thumb. "Let me see what I can do, Aveline. I might be able to stir something up."

"So long as it isn't illegal and doesn't come back on me, Varric," Aveline said, her eyes playful.

"Madam! Do you really see me as such a low criminal?" Varric replied, feigning a wound to his heart.

"I take you for that and much more!" Aveline playfully challenged.

Varric guffawed loudly and slapped the table. "I knew I liked you for a reason, Aveline!"

"Yes well, just mind your methods and we won't have any trouble," Aveline retorted.

"The elf needn't worry. I'll take care of it," Varric said, extending his hand to Aveline. She took it and shook it.

"See that you do," she said. "So, where are you off to next?" she addressed Aria.

"Probably the Bone Pit," Aria replied, swiping foam from her lip as she finished her mead.

"Hubert's a fool for mining there. And he uses refugees for cheap labour," Anders spat, his mood not improving since Aria had expressed interest in Fenris's welfare.

"Hubert," Aveline groaned, rubbing her temples. "He's been in my office demanding that I send guards. There is no one at the mines, so why would I need to send guards there? Oh, and do please hurry up on that promise, Hawke. He's come in the past two days demanding that I clap you in irons for failure to deliver on a service."

Aria snorted at this. "He would do well to learn a bit of humility. He insulted my kinsmen to my face, then expected me to just run along and do his bidding. I plan on going there tomorrow. I just wanted to dent his purse a little first."

"I'd do the same," Aveline said. "I wish I could join you, but I've got obligations—"

"Aveline, you needn't explain yourself," Aria gently cut her off. "We all know you're busy. I'll take Fenris in your stead."

"Fenris. Do you trust him?" Aveline asked.

"He's never given me reason not to," Aria honestly replied.

"Fair enough," Aveline said. "Well, I think this should do it for me for the night. I'll see you all soon, I bet."

"Good night, Aveline," Varric said, inclining his head politely. She nodded in response.

"Do watch yourself on these streets. The scum are likely out," Anders said.

"I think they'll think twice about assaulting the captain of the guard," Aveline replied. "But thank you for your concern. Hawke—" she said, extending her hand to the rogue. Aria took it. "Be careful tomorrow. I've heard bad things about the Bone Pit and the miners aren't there because they're simply too lazy to work. It's dangerous."

"I'll be careful," Aria said, shaking the captain's hand and releasing it.

"Do. Good night."

"Goodnight," they all said in unison.

Aria stretched and leaned back in her chair. "It's been a hell of a day."

Varric yawned and also stretched. "Yeah—I'm gonna have Norah prepare me a bath. Then I'm hitting the sheets. You're welcome to crash here, but I think Bethany would have a fit if you weren't home."

Anders stood then, offering Aria his arm. She politely took it and turned back to Varric. "Thank you, Varric. You're a trusted, formidable ally."

"My pleasure, madam," he said with a flourish. "Likewise."

"Goodnight, Varric," Anders said as they reached the door.

"Goodnight, Blondie."

Anders closed the door and they descended the steps leading into the lower part of the tavern. Isabela waved to them from her perch at the bar, her brows shooting up in curiosity at the manner with which they walked. Her eyes settled for a moment on their linked arms and she winked at Aria. Aria ignored her after that and allowed Anders to lead her outside.

The night was warm and the fragrance of Lady Elegant's wildflowers drifted through the square. A stray cat scurried ahead of them and Anders made a mewling sound in his throat. The cat turned toward him for a split second, then disappeared into the shadows towards Darktown.

"You are fond of them," Aria liltingly said, allowing him to pull her slightly closer.

"Cats are incredible creatures. They're every bit as smart as a Mabari, but they're more…more…"

"Independent. I understand," Aria softly chuckled, placing her free hand on top of the one that held his arm.

He smiled at the gesture and continued walking, their shoulders and hips gently bumping as they walked.

"Are you truly worried about Fenris?"

Aria sighed. "He's part of our little squadron. Of course I worry. What would those Hightown noble idiots have done to him if they found out? They'd have him deported and sent right back to Tevinter, and I doubt he'd go without a fight."

"So it is merely—professional worry?" Anders tentatively asked.

Aria stopped walking and faced him. "Anders—if any of you were in danger, I'd react the same. Fenris, you, Varric, Aveline, Merrill, Bethany… Any of you."

"I just—I'm sorry I can't control myself. The thought of another man touching you—"

"Perhaps that is exactly what I need, what I'm yearning for, Anders," Aria softly said, leaning into him and sliding her palm gently down his face.

His hands went around her waist and drew her sharply to him. He looked down into those fiery, brown-gold eyes and saw what she wanted. What she needed of him. He tenderly cupped her face in his hands.

"Aria," he shakily whispered. "What I'd give to have you to myself…"

"Then give it," she whispered. "And claim me. Otherwise, Anders… My heart won't wait forever."

He crushed her to him, nearly sobbing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her lips caressed his jaw, finding his ear and the soft, sensitive bit of flesh just behind it. Her breath gently grazed his skin and set his blood on fire. Maker, he wanted her more than anything in creation. But then there was the voice of Justice, telling him it wouldn't be fair to her. He had a purpose, and that purpose would surely only lead to her demise. He couldn't destroy her.

"Aria," he whispered, moaning as her lips grazed his neck. He gently pushed her back enough that he could look down into her eyes. He cupped her face again, his thumbs smoothing over her cheeks. "It would be the most selfish thing I could ever do. It would…destroy you," he nearly sobbed.

"Anders, please," she pleaded, stroking his face with her own hand. "You're stronger than you think. I'm stronger than you think. Just please…"

Anders closed his eyes tightly shut, trying to ward off the sudden ache that took his heart at her words. He should never have let his feelings for her known, and Maker help him, he couldn't stay away from her. She was a potent drug, irresistible, indomitable. She was his other half, but his sins wouldn't allow him to claim her as such.

"Aria, I can't," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Maker help me, I want to. My heart…my heart is ever yours. But I can't."

She slowly backed away, her chin lowering. "I think—I understand."

"Do you?" he asked, gently touching her shoulder.

Aria looked up at him, trying to figure out if she really did understand. Was it really Justice he was afraid of? Or did he have something planned that would be his undoing? Was _that_ the fate he was protecting her from? Had he really given up all hope?

"You will—eventually—be forced to act in such a way that it will mean the forfeiture of your life," she quietly said, the words becoming surer with each syllable pronounced.

The breath rushed out of his chest. How could she know? How could she fathom what burdens had been set unto him when he decided to bear Justice? But at least this way, now that she knew, she understood.

"What I'm at a loss about is why you think you have to do something like that," Aria continued, her gaze lifting to his again, her eyes sad and her tone slightly accusatory. "Such an act will not bring peace, Anders. Not for you, and not for anyone you love."

He stood there in stunned silence, tears rolling from his eyes at her words. He fell to his knees before her, burying his head against her waist, his fingers tangling in the cloak that surrounded her. Her arms gently folded around his shoulders and they stayed like that a good long while. He wept silently, clinging to her. All the sorrow, all the hatred he had for the injustice in this world would kill him and she knew it. He knew it now, too. He couldn't let it take her. He wouldn't.

He slowly rose to his feet, wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his robe. She watched him, those tawny eyes catching everything. He offered her a smile, but it was bitter and sad.

She touched his face again, her own eyes hurt and pleading. "Why must you go to such lengths, Anders? Why is it not enough that you already help so many in need?"

He jerked away from her, working to harden his eyes, then feeling the nauseating sensation of the fade portal opening. "Because it is not what I'm meant for," he said, his tone taking on a much sharper edge. "I'm meant to bring down every injustice done unto mages and hold those who trespassed against us responsible."

Aria stepped back, seeing the immediate change in him. The white light pulsed weakly beneath his skin. "Then you will have us all killed," she snapped.

"If you deserve it!" he shot back, taking a step towards her. The white light was much more pronounced now and she recognized his voice was not his own anymore.

"Then that is _not_ justice!" she shouted back, stepping up so that she looked him dead in the eyes. "That is vengeance, and vengeance is as much a sin as murder!"

"I am Justice!"

"No, you're not," Aria softly stated, reaching up and touching his face, knowing Anders was in there somewhere.

The light faded and he was himself again, though much weakened and drained of his energy and mana.

"Do you see now?" Anders whispered.

"Justice is a coward. Rather than take the time to actually find those at fault he blames everyone and would see us _all_ killed," Aria spat.

"That part isn't him," Anders gently said. "That's my anger. That's my…wrath. He absorbed it and this is what has happened."

"Cast him out," Aria said, rounding on him. "Cast him out and relinquish him to the fade where he belongs. Let him wreak his righteous havoc there. Not here."

"It isn't that simple, Aria," he pleaded. "He's…part of me now. The only way to do that would be to make me…Tranquil. Could you do that to me?"

She touched his face. "I'll kill you myself if that ever happens to you."

He kissed her palm and gently set it back at her side. "Then I'm truly grateful to have such a compassionate friend as you."

"It's late," Aria wearily said, looking back at the alley that led to her home.

"It is. I must go. When you're ready to leave in the morning, send for me. I'll be there," he softly said.

"I have to bring Fenris," she admonished.

"It won't be a problem," Anders said, and his expression was earnest.

"Anders—"

"Aria?"

"I wish you could be happy," she said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

"I traded that ability away in the hope that others, many, many others, could be happy. Take heart, Aria. You've given me more than I had ever dared hope for."

He turned then and swiftly disappeared into the alley that led down to Darktown. She stood and watched the place where he'd gone from view, unable to move. She wasn't quite sure what had happened tonight, but she did feel a strange inner peace. Like some weight had just been removed from her shoulders.

A cold breeze blew in off the sea, chilling her into action. She sighed and traipsed back towards Gamlen's hovel, deeply lost in thought. She understood. She thought she had before, but now… She understood. But she wasn't going to give up on him. She wasn't going to lose hope that somehow, Anders would be victorious without the bloodshed Justice—Vengeance—demanded.


	15. Chapter FOURTEEN

**Chapter Fourteen**

Aria sat on the cliffs that overlooked the Waking Sea, her armour clean, her daggers sharp and in their sheaths on her back, her hair in its usual ornate array, pulled up high on her head. She breathed deeply the salty, fresh breeze and sighed.

The sun was just rising, turning the water to blood where it touched the horizon to the East. Aria did not like the looks of the day. But she was not one to take stock in wives tales about blood in the water. The sky above was a riot of dusty and vibrant hues of orange, pink, blue, and purple. It contrasted starkly with the dull red of the water. Some would say that fate would claim the life of a love today.

In her mind, Aria told fate to kindly fuck off.

She did not turn as the wind suddenly kicked up behind her, the feral, spicy scent she associated with the elf briefly wafting toward her. He sat next to her, silent as death, and looked out over the sea. They waited a few moments before he shattered the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"Blood in the water, your people are fond of saying."

Aria snorted, regarding Fenris with a disgruntled scowl. "That happens every sunny morning. It's rubbish."

Fenris chuckled. "Wisdom of the obvious, but often discarded sort."

"People believe fairytales over truth every day."

"You're talking about the Maker?"

"And every other religion."

"I never took you to be the anarchist sort," Fenris sniggered . His sarcasm was not lost on her.

"Yes well, no one's perfect."

It was then that the clinking of chain mail and the swish of mage robes could be heard just beyond the nearest bluff. Aria returned her gaze to the sea, the sun's ascent turning a dark orange and the water no longer looking as though it consisted of blood.

"I hate mornings," Varric's sleep-roughened voice came to her ears as he clumsily plopped next to her. "Why do we have to get up so early?"

"It could be worse, Varric. You could just never sleep," Aria softly said, eyes darting to the flock of gulls that suddenly departed one of the cliffs, their mournful voices creating a cacophony that reverberated across the otherwise silent harbor.

He grunted in response.

"We aren't getting much done sitting here on our asses," Anders cheerily stated. "We've got to check out the mines. Shall we?"

Aria ignored the various sounds of distaste that rumbled from both Varric and Fenris, standing nimbly and bounding towards the trail that led up to the Bone Pit. "Gentlemen, we have coin to earn."

As they cleared the bluffs, coming to the summit of the cliff into which the mines had been built, a wind reeking of death assailed their nostrils. Varric gagged. Fenris commented on it and swore in his strange Tevinter tongue. Anders snarled.

They walked up to the mouth of the nearest cavern and proceeded down into the dark passage. It stank of sulfur, various ores, and the unmistakable scents of old and new death. They'd barely reached the bottom before a few giant spiders assaulted them.

Aria was taken by surprise as a venomous giant spider lunged from its camouflage in the shadows and pinned her against the cave wall. She instinctively held it off by its two foremost legs, its pincers snapping for her neck and dripping with a neon green ooze. She nearly retched at the stench of its sour breath, struggling for a foothold to keep herself upright.

"Hawke!" she heard Varric shout in alarm, sending a triplet of bolts thunking deep into the spider's thick exoskeleton in its abdomen.

The arachnid seemed unfazed, continuing its assault on her as she fought to hold the venomous fangs at bay. She'd dropped both daggers to catch the assailing creature's legs and now one was under her foot, hindering her desperate quest for steady footing.

Then the creature's abdomen was split clean up the middle before her eyes, its thorax cleaved neatly in two by Fenris's hand. Hawke scurried out from under the spider's corpse, stopping to kick its head in before rejoining Anders and Varric from their ranged-attack points.

"Well I guess that rules out bandits," Aria said, slapping dust and spider slobber from her leggings.

"Or the bandits also became fodder," Varric replied, toeing a rusted helm near the wall of the cavern where the skeletal remains of a human laid.

The party continued on through the labyrinth of mining tunnels and caverns, destroying many more spiders, and even some dragonlings. The appearance of the infant dragons left Aria uneasy and her battle-tuned senses were on high alert. She liked dragons—so long as they kept their distance or were really the Witch of the Wilds in disguise.

They ran into a miner, who had escaped certain death for the time. Aria sent him back through to tunnels they'd cleared to report to that ridiculous Orlesian, Hubert.

"Hawke, I know you've faced down ogres but dragons? I don't think they leave a nest unguarded," Varric said as they pressed on to where the miner had indicated the presence of one such creature.

"Where's your sense of adventure, Varric?" Aria glibly replied, stepping onto a ledge that overlooked one of the Bone Pit's many treacherous valleys.

A feral, ear-shattering scream rent the air from overhead and they were momentarily buffeted by a blast of wing-blown wind. Aria stumbled into cover behind a boulder, crouching back to back with Fenris. He regarded her with grim determination as their latest foe descended onto the ledge.

Sighing, Aria looked over to where Anders and Varric had taken cover behind another large boulder. Varric was nocking a triplet on Bianca. Anders was peering at the new arrival with eyes wide as dinner plates. Aria motioned to them to stay in cover while they launched their ranged assault to draw the beast's attention.

The dragon screamed and sent a torrent of white-hot flames at their cover. Aria took the chance and sneaked behind the beast, launching her own assault on it's flank. She dodged the frenzied beast's heavy foot falls, always keeping to the rear. Fenris raced out from cover and slid under the dragon's belly, slashing at the less thickly scaled hide of the monstrosity's stomach.

They continued thus for nearly an hour, taking turns drawing the formidable beast's attention whilst the others attacked. Aria saw her chance at last when Fenris had drawn the she-dragon's focus. She clambered up the magnificent animal's shoulder, then vaulted onto it's neck. With all her strength, bolstered by help from Anders's mana, she drove both daggers deep into the dragon's skull. With a heavy sigh, the beast's body gave way and she crashed to the earth.

Aria slid down from the animal's great head and turned to survey their work. It made her slightly sad to have slain such a magnificent creature. She'd been defending her young, and they killed her for it. Aria knelt beside her and rested her head against the scaly, tough cheek bone of the animal. She whispered a prayer for peace in the afterlife for the giant and stayed there a moment.

"Hawke?" Fenris's voice greeted her ears.

She turned abruptly and saw the trio of her companions looking quizzically at her. "Yes?"

"You're—crying," Anders softly stated, moving forward to offer her his hand.

She swiped angrily at the tears she hadn't realized were falling and took his help. Aria didn't say anything as they looted the corpse for what necessities and marketable goods they could carry. When they'd gotten all they could, Aria silently led them back to Kirkwall. She left her companions to their drinking at the Hanged Man, her parting silent. Anders tried to stop her, but Fenris intervened and Varric defused the situation by offering them both a tankard to leave Hawke alone.

Killing the dragon shouldn't have bothered her the way it did. Dragons were nuisances. They were demons, of a sort. The she-dragon would have killed her if she hadn't have gotten the beast first. Maybe it was the fact that the dragon had just been simply defending her family that unsettled her so. A family that Aria had just finished slaying. It hadn't even been that much of a fight, to be honest. She'd felt as though the dragon was only half-heartedly trying, as though perhaps she'd wanted them to end her. The thought brought the sting of tears back to her eyes and Aria berated herself for her sudden weakness.

No one was home when Aria returned to Gamlen's hovel in the slums. The place had been recently cleaned, no doubt Bethany's doing. Her sister was probably at Anders's clinic in Dark Town. Her mother was probably in High Town at the Chantry. Gamlen was most likely at the Blooming Rose getting serviced. Aria shuddered at that thought and continued into the tiny room she and Bethany shared. She pulled up a loose floor board and tugged a small locked chest free from the dust and rat droppings.

The amount in Aria's hidden coffer was steadily growing. 30 sovereigns saved so far, and that wasn't including the coin Aria carried around on her day-to-day. She had reached the halfway point in less than two months. Perhaps if she got more serious, she'd be able to scrape together the remaining 20 within the next month.

Aria was sick and fucking tired of living in this filth, with her uncle's constant disapproval and feigned hospitality. More and more lately it had been increasingly difficult to quell the urge to kill him. Bethany had started playing referee and sent Aria on errands whenever the two of them butted heads.

She laid down on her bunk and stared at the ceiling. She contemplated the wood grain in the beams for the millionth time since she'd been in Kirkwall. The plight of her mother beat at her, a subliminal pulsing that every so often rose to the surface and threatened to drown her. She had the distinct, crushing feeling that it was nowhere near over.


	16. Chapter FIFTEEN

**Chapter 15**

The next few months passed in a blur. Aria Hawke's notoriety climbed with every deed she accomplished, be it on the sly as the recalcitrant asshole of a magistrate ordered when he'd sent her to bring in an escaped convict, or boldly in the open as she and her crew cleared several mercenary gangs out of Kirkwall. Athenril's missions were easy enough—retrievals from raids the Coterie wrought upon her. Hawke scored points with Varric over smoothly lying to Athenril about her missing goods in one instance, having given them to the Fereldan boy Athenril sent to guard them, after wresting them back from the Coterie. She even scored points with Fenris when she let him handle the elf-child serial killer the magistrate had wanted back alive, who incidentally happened to be the magistrate's son. Hawke didn't care about politics; she'd make her own way, and fuck whoever stood in it or felt the pinch of the heel of her boot on their toes.

Aria Hawke had also gained a new addition to her party, the shipless pirate captain, Isabela. She helped her shady fellow rogue with her plights, and Hawke's hope for the betterment of Kirkwall was renewed when she learned Isabela had freed would-be slaves from their pending shackles. If the pirate was capable of seeing that slavery was wrong, there was hope for her black heart yet. Despite her misgivings about the pirate, Aria was becoming quite fond of Isabela's company. The pirate rogue was a breath of fresh air, refusing to live by a morally corrupt society's double standard. Isabela was all about freedom; and she said whatever was on her mind without too much candy coating. It was a trait that was maddeningly endearing.

Tensions had eased a bit between Anders and Fenris. Aria had been avoiding both of them, as she was driving everyone relentlessly in the pursuit of coin for the expedition into the Deep Roads. She owned half the mine now, and work was continuing, generating a nice little supplementary cash flow each week. She made treks up to the mine every few days to converse with the miners and protect their progress, much to Hubert's approval.

Aveline accompanied her this day on a foray to the mine, along with Isabela and Anders. In hindsight, perhaps it wasn't the wisest choice for a party, but Hawke secretly loved the verbal sparring that occurred between Aveline and Isabela. The forthright former knight hated the brash promiscuity of the shipless pirate.

"So, Isabela, you're a captain?" Aveline huffed as they started one of several rocky, steep climbs they'd be making that day.

"That's right, Big Girl. What of it?" Isabela slinkily asked.

"I don't remember your name on any registries. Every ship that docks has to declare," Aveline haughtily retorted, the underlying intent to ensnare the pirate in legal binds not hidden.

Isabela's eyes narrowed for a second, then feigned smug innocence as she said, "I never docked and you're no Port Authority."

"And you.." Aveline scoffed, pulling herself up a boulder to scathingly stare down at the dusky pirate, "Are no merchant."

"Ooooh. Scrutiny!" Isabela purred, darting past the Captain up a washed out section of the road.

"If you two can't play nice, I'm going to remove both your tongues," Aria growled. Behind her, Anders chuckled.

Isabela laughed in response and Aveline glared grudgingly at Hawke as she passed under the Captain's perch. They climbed for another hour before they reached the mining camp. Hawke made her rounds, chatting with her Fereldan countrymen. The whole group found a little piece of home in reminiscing about the mud and dogs with other refugees. Aria hadn't realized it, but she'd brought only people familiar with Ferelden on this sortie to the mines.

The party returned to Kirkwall proper early in the evening, a couple hours before sunset. Anders swiftly departed for Darktown, surreptitiously snagging and briefly squeezing Hawke's hand before he left. Isabela and Aveline walked to the Hanged Man together, bantering back and forth like warring guinea hens.

"Well, 'captain'. Can I call you Captain? You can call me Captain," Isabela said as she and the giant Guard-Captain paced away down the stairs from Hightown towards the bazaar in Lowtown.

"I won't be doing that," Aveline tersely replied, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

Isabela sniggered, "Neither will I. Becauseyou're a guard captain. No real authority. Not like on a ship."

They turned the corner past the Antivan's wares and Hawke heard Aveline glibly say, "Well, you would know about having a large number of men under you."

Isabela snidely coughed. "You've been waiting to use that one. Did you practice?"

"Shut up," Aveline quipped.

Aria shook her head and kept several paces behind them, until they disappeared behind the door to the Hanged Man. She felt oddly at peace as she trudged the rest of the way to Gamlen's hovel. Just before she set a foot on the stairs, a gruff, unintelligent voice sounded behind her.

"Filthy little dog lord."

Hawke turned slowly, her hands instinctively reaching for her daggers. She drew them and flicked her wrists, sending the large knives dancing in her hands as she spoke. "And your quarrel would be?"

He stood with four other men, cheaply armed. "We ain't got quarrel with ol' greasy, yer uncle. But you... Refugees is another matter." He spat at his feet, his greasy head lowered, his dim brown eyes issuing as much a challenge as they were capable.

"You think four men is enough for little ol' me?" Aria chimed, idly flipping the dagger in her right hand into the air and deftly catching it.

One of the men behind the gruff-voiced ringleader snorted and spat. "Keep her alive. I wanna see if she's as good in bed as they says she is in a fight."

Hawke whipped the freshly-caught dagger in her right hand straight at the man's face. It buried itself to the hilt just to the left of his nose. He dropped like a burlap full of flour. The other three men bolted. At first it looked like they were going to attack her, but then they scattered and ran screaming down the alley way from which they must have come.

"Sister, could you please keep the killing outside our neighbourhood?" Bethany's voice sweetly chimed from behind her.

Hawke turned and looked up at where her sister stood at the railing on the sad excuse Gamlen had for a porch. The eldest Hawke slowly and dutifully ascended the steps. Bethany handed her a basket. Aria gave her a questioning look, then opened the little wicker lid.

Inside the basket were a bunch of sweet smelling white and light purple wildflowers. The heads of the flowers were adorned with 7 large petals each. They had a scent such as which calls to mind a cool, silvery moonlit summer night in a garden just after a rainstorm. Next to the enormous bouquet of wildflowers were several little vials of scented oils labeled with exotic names in a foreign tongue, and a couple bunches of dried herbs.

"What is this?" Aria questioned her sister.

Bethany smiled knowingly. "A gift," she said simply.

"A...gift," Aria repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yes silly. All the key components to crafting lovely new soaps and lotions," the mage replied as though her sister should know the trappings required of the trade.

"Are they poison?" Aria suspiciously sniffed at the flowers.

Bethany quirked a brow. "You have gotten quite paranoid."

Aria closed the basket lid and ushered her little sister inside. Mother was sitting at the table writing on parchment with a beautiful ivory quill. Gamlen was gone, as per his usual this time of the evening. No doubt he was nose deep in cheap bosom.

"If you'll give me an hour, I'll have these transformed for you," Bethany offered, taking the basket from Aria.

"If you insist," Aria chuckled, pecking at the lacing of her armor to loosen it. Leandra looked up from the table then and smiled at her eldest.

"'Twould seem you've a lot of suitors as of late," the Hawke matriarch cajoled as Aria sat on the bench across from her.

Aria grunted in response and unlaced her boots. Leandra laughed softly to herself and continued penning. Bethany disappeared into the lavatory. Aria continued removing her armor, sighing heavily once the cool air hit her hot, very tired feet.

"What was that scuffle before you came inside?" Leandra asked once Aria had stripped to her underarmor, which consisted of close-fitting black leather trousers and a padded long-sleeved woven white shirt that laced from just beneath the start of her bosom all the way to the neck.

"Just some disgruntled drunk Kirkwallers," Aria replied.

"I do wish they'd give off it already," Leandra sniped, blowing on the ink to make it dry quicker. "You are just as much a Kirkwaller as they are."

Aria bit her tongue. No, she indeed wasn't a Kirkwaller. Her home was still in Ferelden and she wished she had another life there. She excused herself and went into the bedroom she shared with Bethany. She softly closed the door and clambered onto the top bunk.

What seemed but a moment later, Bethany was gently shaking her awake. Aria groggily sat up, mindful of the proximity of the rough-hewn beams just inches from her head. Bethany held up a bar of soap and Aria took it.

The scent was unlike anything she'd ever smelled before. It was beautiful, dark,cool, sweet, sad, and hopeful, all in one whiff. "Mmm, that is lovely."

"Isn't it? I must find where he got these flowers. I've never seen them before," Bethany chortled, huffing into her hands as though she were a drug addict.

Aria laughed. "He being whom?"

"I don't know. They were just left on the door step when I got home. I haven't drawn any attention as of late, but you have been calling it in droves. I surmised they were for you and upon discovering the contents of that basket, I knew what they were for."

The elder Hawke laughed again and shook her head. "I'll put on some water for a bath."

"Do hurry, I was hoping we could join our friends at the Hanged Man," Bethany bubbled. "You haven't done anything but work this past week and it would do you good to let your hair down. Literally and figuratively."

Aria entered the lavatory and found there was already steaming water in the tub, under a layer of thick, intoxicatingly scented foam. On the overturned bucket that served as a shower ledge, there were two new bottles; one shampoo and one cream rinse. Aria quickly undressed and immersed herself in this well-earned luxury. She begrudgingly hurried with her cleansing and donned her most recently acquired ensemble.

She had selected a light purple peasant blouse with black lacing on the bosom, her favorite pair of black doeskin leggings, and knee-high buff colored boots. Bethany did her hair with the pewter combs the mage had gifted her what seemed like eons ago. In truth, it had been but a few months.

The sisters left the house together and walked the short passage to the Hanged Man. It was unusually busy tonight. It appeared the templars had gotten reinforcements. As a result, Bethany ducked out after saying hello to their party members. Aria only found this out when Anders appeared at the door to Varric's room and told her.

When Aria made to leave, Fenris strode lithely in, a tray of tankards perched on his shoulder. Varric invited her to participate in Wicked Grace; she declined that offer but accepted the tankard Fenris offered her and took a seat on one of the newly added sofas near the hearth. The room now consisted of Fenris, Anders, Isabela, and Varric playing Wicked Grace, Norah the barmaid sleeping on Varric's bed, and Hawke observing from her perch on the sofa.

"Rivaini, stop looking at my chest. My eyes are up here," Varric said as he dealt the cards.

"But the chest hair..." Isabela crooned, leaning forward to better examine Varric's abundant fur. Aria watched the rogue's eyes dart at Varric's cards. Aria stifled a giggle by drinking deeply from her tankard.

"Do you know how much I suffer under your gaze? I am a person, not an object!" Varric replied, feigning hurt. He moved his cards out of her line of sight.

"Uh, Varric?" Isabela snidely asked, giving him the once over with her chamelon-esque hazel eyes.

Varric chuckled. "Just shittin' you."

Fenris shook his head at his hand and sighed almost imperceptibly. Isabela, reading the elf's tells, decided to try and fluster him further.

"I enjoy a man with markings like that," she cajoled, shooting him her most sultry gaze.

Fenris snorted, "You've enjoyed many, I suspect."

Anders and Varric both burst out laughing at this.

Unfazed, Isabela continued. "Where I come from, they're called tattoos. Sailors get them all the time."

"Not made of lyrium, I imagine," Fenris tersely replied, his eyes resting on Hawke for a few seconds too long. Aria could feel the blush creep into her cheeks and took another drink.

"Not a one," Isabela replied, winking at Aria. "And the pictures are different—usually breasts."

Varric and Anders nodded in agreement to the truth of that statement. Merrill appeared at the door then and Varric waved her in.

"I suppose a pair of lyrium breasts tattooed onto my chest would make things better," Fenris dryly stated, watching as Varric started the hand out.

"That's me. I'm a helper," Isabela chirped, playing out a card.

"You're going to help Fenris get lyrium breasts?" Merrill asked, aghast, as she seated herself next to Hawke. She had a tankard in her hand already.

Everyone but Fenris broke into laughter that woke Norah. She simply turned over and put a pillow over her head.

"Daisy, do you know a spell that could do that?" Varric asked. "I bet you could make a fortune selling lyrium breasts to the nobles."

"Why would anyone want them?" Merrill queried.

"We're joking, Daisy," Varric sweetly replied.

"You joke about funny things," Merrill laughed. Then hiccuped.

"Just how many of those have you had, sweet thing?" Isabela purred at the Dale.

Merrill looked down at the tankard in her hand worriedly. "Three?"

"She's hammered. Leave her alone," Anders good-naturedly chided, playing his card in the hand. It was higher than both Isabela's and Varric's. Isabela snorted and sat back in her chair at his play.

"You're no fun. I bet we would let you watch," Isabela said with a swivel of her hips in the chair.

Fenris laid down a card that beat all three of them. He swept the ante pile into his lap and led with the next card in his hand. It was higher than the previous.

"Power play, huh?" Varric laughed, putting his next card down, and losing again.

"For the love of..." Isabela snarled, throwing down another low card. Anders followed suit, smiling ruefully at Aria. Fenris took the hand again.

Aria watched them play for 3 more tankards, by the end of which, Merrill had curled up at the foot of Varric's bed and was out cold. Hawke was content to just watch and drink tonight. It was nice to just watch for once. To not be involved in the thick of it. To just enjoy the company of her friends-at-arms. Anders made his leave out the back entrance, seen to by Varric shortly after Aria ordered her fourth tankard. The mage warden had dutifully kept his eyes from Aria all night. Norah woke and went downstairs to assist with her tavern closing duties.

Varric put away the cards and joined Hawke on the sofa. Isabela went downstairs to the bar to seek less than savory action with anyone she fancied for the evening. Fenris sat on the other sofa, across from Varric and Hawke.

"So where's your beard, elf?" Varric chimed as they settled themselves.

"Elves don't grow beards," Fenris replied, with just a hint of befuddlement and a dash of sarcasm.

"Huh. I thought maybe you shaved it off in a fit of broody pique," Varric jibed good-naturedly.

Fenris took a sip of his tankard and leveled his gaze on the dwarf. "So you're a funny dwarf."

Aria couldn't help it. She burst with tinkling laughter. It always seemed the other had an even wittier comeback. It was something she enjoyed, this verbal tete a tete between friends.

"Hawke thinks so," Varric smoothly replied, elbowing Aria in the ribs.

Fenris looked at her, his emerald eyes alight with something she could not place, his face stoic. "Hawke can be a—questionable judge of character."

"Especially when it comes to her taste in men," Varric agreed, and he and Fenris toasted on that.

"Oh piss off," Aria giggled, the alcohol making her giddy. "I haven't had a man in...in..." She hiccuped. "Damn. I'm a cloistered sister."

Varric roared with laughter at this and Fenris was silent, his gaze growing slightly more intense as Hawke made the admission. It should have made her uncomfortable, the heat in the elf's gaze. But it didn't. It made her feel much more playful, much more... Alive.

"If you're a cloistered sister, I'm the King of Dwarves," Varric laughed.

"Says the dwarf whose lover is a dangerous inanimate object," Hawke threw back. She went to take a drink, but found the tankard was empty. With a look of absolute sorrow, she turned it upside down. When no liquid came out, she set the tankard on the coffee table in front of her. "I think that's nature's way of saying I should probably go home."

Varric stifled first a burp, then a yawn and nodded. "Yes, it's about that time."

Fenris drained the rest of the mead in his tankard and set it next to Hawke's. "Shall I escort you home?" he asked Aria, standing and offering her his hand.

She took the help and swayed slightly as she stood, leaning for a split second against the warrior elf before quickly recovering her balance. "I wouldn't mind company."

Varric shook his head. "You may have to carry her. She doesn't look all that steady."

"Yes well, with as low as your center of gravity is, I wouldn't expect you to understand how tall people balance works," Aria giggled. She covered her mouth and her tawny eyes grew wide.

"Like I said before, Hawke, if all you can jest about is my height, I must be quite alright," Varric replied with a saucy grin. He stood and hugged her before Fenris led her down the stairs and out the doors.

The wind that came off the harbour was light, fresh, and clean. The night was cloudy and looked as though it thought to rain soon. Aria was invigorated by the fresh air and did not wish to return home yet. Fenris went to turn her toward the street that led to Gamlen's hovel but she resisted.

"No, I don't think I'm quite ready to go back home," she groused as Fenris tugged her arm once more in the direction of home.

"No?" he quietly asked, stopping her so that he could look into her eyes. He had to look down slightly. Heavens he was tall for an elf, she thought for the hundredth time.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Hawke brazenly asked.

"Look at you like...what?" Fenris quizzically countered.

"I don't know. But it makes my insides get warm and—I'm definitely shutting up now. Can we walk through the gardens in Hightown before you take me home? I know Gamlen's there by now and I'm afraid I might kill him if he runs his mouth, as he is guaranteed to do."

He started leading her through the bazaar towards the Hightown steps. He loved it when she was brazen. He loved it when she let her guard down. Fenris found himself wishing he'd known her before the Blight. Before he'd been Danarius's slave. He tightened his hold on her just slightly at the thought.

"You're brooding," Hawke teased, returning the slight pressure on his arm.

"You said you were definitely shutting up now," he replied, looking over at her. A slight smile tugged up one corner of his lips.

"We can't both be broody. It upsets the balance of nature," Hawke candidly replied, giggling.

They reached the top of the steps and sprinkles of rain started to fall, bouncing off the stones. Slight mist rose from the streets, the cool of the night taking the last heat of the day.

"It's going to rain," Fenris said simply, staring up at the black sky. A few droplets hit his face and slid down his lyrium tattoos on his neck.

Hawke couldn't stop her hand from gently tracing the rivulets along their silvery paths until her fingers encountered the armor at his chest. She realized he'd held his breath.

"Let it rain," she softly replied, looking back up into his wondrous, vibrant green eyes.

"You are...such a strange woman," Fenris said after a moment, his hand covering hers where it had stopped on his chest.

"Thanks, I think," Aria laughed, gently removing her hand. She looked across the courtyard, which was empty of merchants for the time. Then she looked back at Fenris, her ochre eyes bright with mischief. "Catch me if you can."

Aria bolted then, as fast as her legs would carry her. She darted across the courtyard, up the steps towards the Hightown mansions, then clambered up the vines of the garden walls. She ran across the top of the wall, just as the rain began to come down in torrents. Fenris ran beside the wall, yelling at her to slow down.

From up here, she could see all of Kirkwall. It was stunning, shining in the night, all the stone wet and looking like it was made from lacquered onyx. She stumbled and launched herself off the wall. It felt like she fell for an eternity before she landed safely in Fenris's steely arms.

He was breathing hard. She could see the thrum of his pulse in his neck throbbing frenetically. A fine trembling shook his arms as he held her.

"You're shaking," Aria said simply, reaching up to touch his cheek.

"You could have died!" Fenris hoarsely whispered, rainwater falling in silvery rivers off his hair and face, further soaking her already drenched blouse.

"I was trying to learn how to fly. And in the end, I was caught by a most loyal friend," she replied, keenly aware of the heat radiating off him.

He contemplated this silently, no doubt thinking back to Flemeth's words. He turned his head slowly to nudge Aria's palm with his nose. She trembled at the heat of his breath on her fingers, then timidly traced his lips.

"Aria," he sighed. "We can't do this now, or here."

Just like that the magic she'd experienced the past hour come filtering down like ashes falling on a gentle breeze. He gently stood her up, his eyes flitting to her lips every few blinks. Fenris still embraced her once she was fully upright, one arm curved around her waist, the other around her shoulders.

"You're going to be the death of me," Fenris whispered. He touched his lips to her forehead.

Aria was speechless. Her drunken senses were in overdrive and her inebriated mind couldn't keep up with the barrage of information, her body fatiguing quickly under the adrenaline dump. She let him lead her home, keeping her tucked close to his body as they walked. Every few minutes, his lyrium brandings flared for a few seconds. It showered her in delicious warmth.

Fenris watched her run up the steps to the rickety old door on Gamlen's hovel. She paused just before opening the door to look back at him. They stood there for a couple moments, having a conversation with just their eyes. His mouth quirked slightly the way it did when he was tempted to smile. He bowed deeply, then strode off with a wave.

Aria darted inside where it was cool compared to the heat of Fenris's body. She shivered and started to undress.

"Lovers dance in the rain," Gamlen grumbled drunkenly from his stool.

Aria gagged and tugged her shirt back down, settling instead for the moment to wring the water from it by hand. "Lovers?"

"You must be drunk."

"Pot, meet kettle. Kettle, meet pot," Aria snarked, tromping into the bedroom she and Bethany shared.


	17. Chapter SIXTEEN

**Chapter 16**

_**A/N:** I was listening to OneRepublic's "Light It Up" when I started this chapter. I wanted to deviate from the story in a wild fashion here, just giving one more episode to Act I before we reach the Deep Roads. This chapter takes place on a very special day, one to which our heroine is absolutely oblivious. Lots of Fenris action as requested. I'll update as soon as I am able; real life got kinda crazy and I'm tying up loose ends. Thanks for the reviews and thank you for reading my version of the story. As always, credit goes to BioWare for the magnificent characters involved!_

Aria stopped at the top of the steps that led from Hightown into the Lowtown bazaar. She collected her weekly share money from Hubert, who had thrown in 2 extra gold coins. Aria tried to give it back, but Hubert insisted she keep it as a gift. Generosity was not one of Hubert's defining traits. Aria kept it, in the end. She had a pleasant surprise for Varric, now.

She was coming from informing Aveline of the conclusion of her investigation of templars-turned-thrall reports that had seeped in, as well as an investigation into some allegedly connected kidnappings and murders. Aria hated spending so much time in the Gallows, and she knew that Emeric, Thrask, and Cullen—the templars with whom she'd spent much time assisting-were aware of the company she kept. She just hoped they wouldn't act on that knowledge in light of the help she'd given them with their issues.

Aria lightly bounded down the steps to Lowtown, stopping to talk to Lady Elegant for a few minutes. Elegant gifted Hawke one of her finest perfumes and a recipe for a healing potion. She was beginning to wonder if she hadn't stepped into an alternate reality. The dwarven smith in Lowtown's bustling marketplace also gifted Aria a new set of gauntlets that enhanced her dexterity a sizable degree. The jeweler gifted her with a ring that surged with healing energy. And when she reached the doorstep at Gamlen's, there were two bouquets of some of the most beautiful flowers she'd ever seen, a bottle of extremely fine wine, and a parcel, tied up with a deep crimson ribbon.

"What in the Maker's name..." Aria said, stooping to gather the items in her arms. She pushed open the door and deposited the odd items on the table. No one was home, as was normal for this time of day.

It was early in the evening. The sun was creeping ever faster towards the horizon. In three hours, it would be dusk. She'd been up since dawn running errands, catching up with friends, and tying up loose ends. She was thoroughly exhausted, but Bethany insisted Aria come to the Hanged Man with her this evening.

Aria threw herself onto Bethany's bunk, not wanting to make the climb to her own. Bethany's bed was always softer somehow. She fell straight asleep and didn't wake again until it was nearly dark, and the door to the hovel was enthusiastically opened.

"Is Aria here?" she heard Bethany ask her mother, who was apparently much quieter with her entrance.

"Shhh! She's asleep," Leandra hushed Bethany.

"Asleep?! Sweet blood of Andraste, why is she asleep?"

Aria heard footsteps quickly approach the door, which stood slightly ajar. She sat up and stretched her shoulder. Bethany strode in, her dark eyes flashing.

"You promised!" she said, helping Aria to her feet.

"It's still early yet," Aria said with a yawn. "We have time."

"Only because I knew you'd pass out as soon as you got home," Bethany replied, playfully thumping Aria on the shoulder.

"It's been a long—and strange—day," Aria laughed, rubbing the back of her neck uncomfortably.

Bethany quirked a brow. "You really don't know what day it is?"

"Um...Wicked Grace is tomorrow night, not tonight," Aria answered. "C'mon. You can buy me a pint, since everyone's so generous today."

Leandra's laughter followed them down the stairs as they departed.

"Am I still asleep?" Aria asked when they turned down the alley that led to Varric's current residence.

Bethany giggled in response and only quickened her pace. Aria trotted to keep up and followed her sister through the bar, up the stairs, and to Varric's closed door. That was odd. Varric never closed his door. Bethany knocked and the door was promptly opened.

Varric's room was decorated in silver and dark lilac ribbons, Aria's favorite colors. A feast was laid out upon his enormous table where they played Wicked Grace and held party meetings regarding whatever plight they'd gotten into. Many people were present. Varric, Merrill, Isabela, Anders, Aveline, Hubert, a few of the mine leaders, Lord and Lady Elegant, and Gamlen stood around the end of the table.

"Happy birthday, Hawke!" Varric said, throwing his arms wide to encompass the group. Most of them cheered. Everyone had a drink in hand.

Aria turned to Bethany, her expression completely dumbstruck as she said, "You know you haven't gotten near enough sleep when you forget your own birthday."

Everyone laughed at this, and Bethany ushered the guest of honor to her place at the right of the host's seat at the head of the table. They all sat down and delved into the delicious meal set before them. Aria knew by the quality that it was **not** food from the tavern's kitchen. It was a meal fit for a cheeky Hightown noble.

There was roasted turkey, pheasant, and lamb abed hearts of romaine and spinach. There was grilled asparagus, garlic mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli. There were several breads, with cinnamon butter and honey drizzled over their tops. Aria was especially fond of the deep fried mozarella balls and the sweet, wonderful blackberry sangria Varric gifted her at the start of the meal.

Varric regaled them with artfully embellished re-tellings of their many adventures while they ate and drank. A certain elven warrior's absence was something she felt as the night wore on. If Varric had been in charge of this surprise party, as he surely was, she had no doubts Varric would have issued an invitation to Fenris. Aveline was the first to leave as soon as the dessert was cleared, as she needed to be up early the next morning to file reports. The miners soon followed, along with Hubert, who walked with Lady Elegant and her Lord husband.

Soon, it was only Varric, Isabela, Bethany, Anders, Merrill and Hawke left in Varric's chambers. They had situated themselves on the sofas near the hearth, listening to Varric and Anders share battle stories. Merrill would interject with questions and Isabel shared a few tales of her own. Aria just listened, basking in the warmth of the wine and ale in her belly and in that of the hearth.

It had been over a fortnight since they'd had a gathering like this, where most of them were present and could just enjoy each others' company. They'd all been so busy, mostly in gaining the coin to prepare for the expedition. Hawke had often contemplated who she would take into the Deep Roads, when they did furnish the coin. She could only realistically choose two, as that was all their provisions allowed.

She couldn't take Bethany. Hawke had made as many enemies as she had friends. Leaving her mother defenseless was not an option. She feared for her sister's safety from the prison-like Kirkwall circle, however it would be a far kinder fate than Aria's if she came back sans little sister.

She needed a mage, though. Merrill's talents in battle were brutally efficient, but Anders was a healer and had been in the Deep Roads before. He was the obvious choice to fill that role. Varric would be the ranged attacker. She needed brute strength and boundless energy reserves. She needed... Aria's eyes widened and her smile was painfully wide as she met the verdant gaze of which she was extremely fond.

"I am sorry I am late," Fenris said, clearing his throat as he entered. He looked for a brief moment at Varric, nodded, and returned his gaze to Aria.

"That's alright, Fenris," Bethany chimed, "She didn't even remember."

Hawke blushed at this and tapped her boot against Bethany's in a spiteful gesture.

Fenris nodded at this, "I don't even know when mine is. I think it could be quite easy to forget, in the grand scheme of things." He sat next to Hawke on the sofa, the side of his hip bumping hers in the process.

Anders stood then, his increasingly common, painfully stoic demeanor returning. He offered to escort Merrill home and she drunkenly accepted. Anders hugged Aria and wished her a happy birthday again before he departed, his expression briefly adoring. He departed with Merrill on his arm, turning back once to offer her a sad smile before they disappeared down the stairs.

Hawke was keenly aware of the heat radiating off of Fenris's body. He was always so warm, it was hard not to be drawn to him. She relaxed a little at his proximity, and took a long draw from her wine glass, freshly filled by Varric.

"May I?" Fenris asked, indicating her glass.

She handed him the glass without hesitation. His eyes stayed on hers as he tipped the glass against his lips. He closed them to savor the sweet, tart, dark flavor of the wine on his palette. Fenris handed her the glass and nodded appreciatively.

"Fruity, sweet, slightly smoky—oak, I think," Fenris said after a moment. "I'm going to guess 60 years old?"

Varric coughed. "You've had it before, I trust?"

"Not exactly. This is much sweeter. Is this Antivan?" Fenris countered.

"Indeed it is," Varric replied, grabbing the bottle off the table and handing it over to Fenris. The elf surveyed the carefully labeled vessel, his expression somber.

"It was a favorite of mine. May I have a glass?" The question was issued to Hawke, who had lost herself in his eyes again.

"O-of course," Aria stammered, then regained her composure. "You've shared several bottles with me."

Varric poured it for Fenris, and took another glass for himself. Hawke indicated that Isabela and Bethany receive glasses as well, which Varric was all too happy to pour. They silently enjoyed the wine for a few moments, the hearth crackling merrily and a drowsy feeling of comfort permeated the very air.

"When will this expedition finally take place?" Isabela asked finally.

Hawke groaned at this and leaned back to pinch the bridge of her nose between her thumb and middle finger. Bethany twirled her staff between her hands and looked expectantly at her sister.

"Varric?" Aria deferred.

"We need 2 more gold pieces."

"We can make that in a few days," Fenris smoothly stated, looking from Aria to Varric. His arm laid across the back of the sofa, just touching her shoulders.

"Indeed we can," Varric replied, his gaze expectant against Hawke's.

Aria sighed. "We could leave tomorrow, actually."

She put a bag of coins on the table. She'd been keeping it on her belt everywhere she went now, instead of tucked away. Gamlen had been snooping lately and the last thing she needed was for him to gamble away her fortune a second time.

"What is this?" Varric asked, picking the bag up. He weighed it carefully in his hand, his eyes going wide at first, then narrowing on Hawke. "I knew you were squirreling away more somewhere."

"You have two full shares from me, then," Aria candidly replied. She sat back a little more, so that Fenris's arm slipped down to land fully across her shoulders. She pretended not to notice, as did he. Isabela chuckled from the sofa opposite them.

"Well played, Hawke," Varric said in awe. He poured the contents of the bag onto the table, smoothing the sovereigns out with the palms of his hands. "I'll need a week to get everyone rounded up and purchases made."

"Who are you taking?" Fenris quietly asked her.

"Me of course," Bethany said, matter-of-factly. "Anders hates the Deep Roads."

Aria groaned at this and placed her head in her hands.

"Sister?" Bethany asked, voice quavering. "I'm still going, right?"

Aria stood then and collected her coins back into the bag. She placed the bag on top of Varric's money chest. Then she looked to all of them. "I'll know by the end of the week. Everyone who wants to go will meet up with us at dawn at the Merchant's Guild seven days from now. You'll be told then whether or not you're going." She drank the last of the wine in her glass, Fenris mimicking her as he stood.

"It is getting late, isn't it?" Isabela asked, checking the clock above the mantle. It was nearly 2 a.m. "I think I'll take my leave. Happy birthday, Hawke." The pirate hugged the other rogue and waved her goodbye to the collective before bounding down the stairs.

"She's not going to bed yet," Bethany smirked as Isabela's head disappeared.

"Nope," Varric said, draining his glass in the same fashion as his companions. "She has to find a pillow."

"I hear she prefers furry ones," Fenris quipped, his arm sliding through Hawke's. The movement felt so natural.

Varric laughed, along with Bethany. Bethany decided she wanted to stay with Varric for a little while longer to discuss details about the expedition. Fenris offered to walk Aria home, which was more a formality. His intent was a given, to which everyone was privy.

Aria bade them good night, and Fenris led her down the stairs. They walked silently, at a leisurely, very close pace. Aria thought back to a few weeks ago, on a night with similar circumstances. No rainclouds were in sight, this time however. The moon was a finger-nail thick crescent in the sky. The stars were much more visible in the increased darkness, lending their own light more readily.

"Did you enjoy yourself today?" Fenris politely asked as they both bounded nimbly off the doorstep of the Hanged Man.

Laughter bubbled from Aria's throat. "Indeed I did!" She leaned against him more, savoring his warmth. It added new depth to her state of drunkenness.

"Even though you forgot it was your birthday?" he chided, a slight chuckle lacing the undertone of his voice.

"I think the fact that I forgot made it better than it would have been had I known," she replied.

"How so?" he asked.

She realized they weren't walking toward the hovel she called home. They were headed for the rocky lookout where she often had the party meet before departing on one of their many journeys. It didn't bother her that he was leading her there. She didn't much feel like going home. She hated the place.

"Just for the day, I thought I lived in paradise."

He was silent, his brows creasing together for a moment as he pondered this. Aria decided to continue.

"Everyone was nice to me. I didn't feel like I was going to have to dodge a dagger to the back all day. The fact that I was showered with gifts might have had an impact on my perspective as well," she said on a laugh.

"Yes, I can see how that might color your perception," he agreed, the hint of laughter that only she ever got to hear flavoring his beautiful voice. "Speaking of gifts," he continued, bringing her slightly closer to him, "Did you open all of yours?"

Aria had to think a moment. "There were some left on my doorstep that I hadn't gotten the chance to open. I was so tired when I got home earlier, I had to take a nap."

"You seem to require a lot of sleep," Fenris teased.

She thumped him playfully on the shoulder and he softly chuckled. "There was a parcel I hadn't opened yet."

"What did it look like?" he asked, stopping at the edge of the trail that ran adjacent to the coast. Together they climbed up the small berm that lined the well-worn path.

Aria followed him to the edge and they sat with their feet hanging off, dangling them childishly. It was difficult to tell where the water began and the sky ended, for the two horizons mirrored each other. It gave them a small taste of what infinity was all about.

"It was a white parcel. With a red ribbon," Aria finally answered him as they got settled. "We're up here...why?"

Fenris pointed to the sky. "In about fifteen minutes, there will be a meteor shower of grand scale."

Aria looked up and watched the sky for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Fenris quietly said, as though the words themselves tasted foul.

"Try me," Aria challenged, leaning closer to him to bump his shoulder with hers.

"Anders was talking about it a few days ago. That's where I learned it from," he nearly whispered, his gaze lifted skyward.

"Ah, I see," she replied, her own eyes drifting to the heavens.

They watched the stars in silence for what seemed like eternity. Aria scrambled for something to say. She didn't want this night to be about the relationship that wouldn't sort itself completely out. She wanted to be happy. She wanted to be loved. She wanted to disappear in a fog of bliss with this most unlikely soul mate who sat next to her now.

"Why did you ask about the parcel?" Aria finally blurted.

Fenris turned to look at her and he combed his fingers through the fall of her hair that hung down her shoulder, over her chest, and nearly to her waist. His eyes followed his fingers, all the way to the end of the slightly curling river of her hair. His gaze found hers a second later.

"Because I had hoped you opened it," he answered, his voice soft and deep, stained quietly with dots of hurt-colored ink.

Aria chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder. "I wish I had too. What is it?"

"You'll just have to open it and find out," he hedged.

A blaze of light lit the sky for a split second then, bathing them briefly in its brilliant light. They both sharply shifted their attention to the heavens. A few seconds later, they watched as a star fell, disappearing just before the treed horizon towards the mountains. Aria gasped as an even brighter one slipped through the deep bluish-black sky, where it disappeared somewhere out to sea.

The spectacle of falling stars quickly crescendoed to a miraculous display of sparkling matter falling all around, tens of them falling at once. This continued for nearly 20 minutes before it started to taper off. Nearly forty-five minutes passed before the last of the meteors blazed across the sky.

Aria and Fenris had sat in wonder the entire time. She was enchanted by the celestial display, almost feeling it down to her soul. Such beauty and inexplicable power was a sight to behold. She realized then, as the last star evaporated just over the bay, that Fenris held her nearly in his lap. His arms were folded somewhat firmly around her shoulders and his chin rested on top of her head. She hadn't remembered moving like this and it was quite the pleasant surprise.

"It is very late," Fenris whispered.

"I think it's beyond late to the point where some may consider it terribly early instead," Aria replied with a yawn.

"The cup is always full for you," he sarcastically, though sweetly, replied.

A twig snapping brought Aria's senses to full alert. Her hands instinctively went for her daggers... Which weren't there. Fenris drew his sword (thankfully HE'D had his wits about him) and they scanned the direction from which the sound had come. It was off to Aria's right, where the slight embankment separated them from prying eyes on the road.

"Someone's breathing heavily," Fenris whispered next to her ear.

She nodded as she heard it too. Someone was definitely coming. Up here, at this time of the night, only one conclusion could be reached. Whatever it was, it was definitely trouble.


	18. Chapter SEVENTEEN

_A/N: I'm going to be taking this story off canon a little bit from now on. This is where the relationships will deepen and the dangers will multiply exponentially. Thank you for the kind reviews. Yes, my Fenris is more brazen. He's a free elf now and he's battle-tested. Why shouldn't he be one to speak up? :) This chapter is a little short, but I promise there will be much lengthier ones in the future! Happy reading!_**  
**

**Chapter 17**

Fenris pulled Aria down into some low bushes and they watched to see who was on such rapid approach. The footfalls and heavy breathing continued up the road past them and soon were out of earshot. Just as they made to rise, however, the footfalls of what sounded like an entire garrison approached.

Surely enough, someone barked orders to make haste. Aria flattened herself on the ground, but a second later, Fenris yanked on her arm. They stood and he motioned for her to follow him. They silently went back to the cliff's edge. Fenris sat down and Aria did the same. He sheathed his sword and turned his head to listen as the garrison thundered past.

"You there! Stand and stay any weapons you may possess!" a rough voice called from behind them.

They stood and turned; Aria carefully put a look of surprise on her face. Three templars approached them. They wore full armour and two of them had their swords drawn. The third hung back a few paces with a crossbow nocked and ready to fire at them.

"Who are you?" the foremost templar asked, lowering his sword.

"I am Aria Hawke and my friend here is Fenris. Forgive me for asking, sers, but what's this all about?" Hawke responded.

"Hawke! By the Maker, what are you doing up here so late?" the front guard asked.

"I had a few too many celebrating my birthday and my companion escorted me here so that I may sober up and watch the spectacle of falling stars," Aria replied. "What's the commotion?"

"A mage has escaped the circle. He was accused of consorting with demons. Have you seen him?" the second closest templar said.

"The mage you seek was headed up the mountain trail. We only heard his footfalls," Fenris cut in.

"I wasn't talking to you elf," the second templar said with disdain. "Is what he says true?"

Aria bristled at the blatant display of disrespect and took a step forward. "As my reputation apparently precedes me, I must ask that you apologize to my companion. He is your ally; no one abhors mages more than this elf."

The second templar bristled visibly at this, but the first thumped him on the shoulder. He cleared his throat and said, "My apologies ser," and nodded at Fenris. Then he turned back to Aria. "Hawke, is what he said true? Did the mage continue up the mountain road?"

Aria nodded, though she felt very much the traitor for having done so. "It is. We did not see him, ser. However we heard footfalls hasten up the road shortly before you arrived."

"Thank you," the first templar said, motioning for the others to follow as they ran to catch up to their garrison.

They waited until the sounds of clanking armor and running foot steps was well gone before they started back down the mountain trail towards the city. Hawke silently fumed at herself. That could have been Bethany running away and she just sold out her own sister. For what? Fear? Self-preservation?

"You are ever a mystery to me," Fenris said after they'd made it halfway back.

Aria sighed. "Why is that?"

"You seek emancipation from the circle for all mages and yet..."

"And yet I help the templars."

"Precisely."

"Fenris, my sister is a mage. You know this."

"And you were in love with a mage," he whispered.

Aria stopped dead in her tracks and rounded on him. "I don't expect you to understand. How can you? You've only known those hungry for power and felt the lash of the whip from it. Who I'm in love with or not is none of your concern."

She ran then. She called every ounce of stamina and strength within her and just ran. Aria knew her parting words had hurt him. Yes, he did indeed have the right to know who she had feelings for, as for this very moment, she would have done anything for that handsome, vicious, peculiar elf.

She ascended the steps to Gamlen's hovel by the time her wits came back to her and she realized that tears streamed down her cheeks. She angrily swiped them away and turned to the east where the sun was rising now. Her birthday was over and the real world had come back to bite her in the ass. Aria didn't go to bed when she got home. She was too angry. Too ill at ease. Her stomach roiled and her mind raced. She set about to cleaning, careful to be as quiet as a church mouse while she swept, dusted, scrubbed, and organized everything in the common area of the tiny house. She set the bouquets of flowers on the tables where she and Bethany did their crafting and stowed the rest of the gifts in her locked trunk. She stopped when her hands encountered the unopened parcel that surely had been Fenris's gift to her.

Aria carefully unwrapped it. When she held the gift up in the firelight to get a better look, she heard a gasp from the door of her bedroom. Bethany stood there, her eyes on the item in Aria's hands.

It was a beautiful, simple dress made of a somewhat iridescent shade of kelly green. The fitted bodice was lined up the left side with lilac hued lace and the pattern continued over the seams of the off-shoulder sleeves. It laced in the back. The skirt was formfitting and had a slight train. Up the right side of the skirt was a slit that would climb to about Aria's mid-thigh were she to put it on.

"Who gave that to you?" Bethany sleepily asked, running her fingers over the soft, somewhat shiny fabric. Her hair was a mess and Aria could still smell the wine on her breath.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Aria quietly answered, running her fingers over the intricate lace designs on the bodice of the dress. The lace formed little tendrils, caricatures of wispy, trailing vines that curled gracefully around the left side of the bodice and just over the hip.

"Anders?"

Aria winced at the name and shook her head slowly.

"Varric?"

"Fenris," Aria softly replied, knowing Bethany would go through every name of every person Aria knew before she would reach the elf's.

Bethany's eyes flew wide. "Fenris? But how... Nevermind. I don't want to know." She took a moment to look about the common room then looked back at her sister, her expression sad and troubled. "You have not been to bed yet, have you?"

Aria sighed. "I've been wrestling inner demons."

"Wrestling demons? Without me?" Bethany chided, hugging her sister before taking the dress from her. She folded it carefully and placed it in the chest.

"It's not funny. A mage may have been tranquilized last night, and I helped them find him."

"What are you talking about?" Bethany asked, aghast.

"Fenris took me up to the Point and we watched stars fall from the heavens. It was beautiful. But then, we heard what sounded like some poor fool running for his life. Before we could really make a decision to investigate, an entire unit of templars showed up."

The color had drained from Bethany's face and she looked as if she might be ill. "You helped them hunt him?"

"No!" Aria shot back defensively, a little more sharply than she had intended. "We simply said we heard someone running up the mountain trail and they followed what we said."

"What crime had the mage committed? Did they say?" Bethany queried nervously.

Aria shook her head. "What they always say. How are we supposed to know when they're telling the truth?"

"Maybe they were. Maybe it was a blood mage," Bethany offered.

"It would explain why they sent an entire garrison," Aria agreed.

"Did they know who you were?"

"Yes, and I had to rebuff one of them for being condescending to Fenris."

"You love him."

Aria didn't respond to that, she only busied herself with the task of dumping the dirty water in her cleaning bucket outside. The sun had climbed fairly high in the sky. She could hear the calls of the shopkeepers as they began business for the day. She took a few moments to just center herself and calm the raw nerves before going back inside.

"You know, there's no shame in it," Bethany continued when Aria returned, stoking the dying fire in the hearth. She tossed on a few more logs before she regarded her sister with a look of earnestness.

"I'm not ashamed. I don't know if it's love. Infatuation, yes. Chemistry, yes. But love? Love is something...much more profound, much more intricate, much more...more...more..." She twirled her finger in the air, as if it would help her mind jolt itself into finishing that sentence.

"Just much more," Bethany finished for her addled sister.

"Yes," Aria replied, nodding almost frantically. "No," she amended, shaking her head vehemently. "I don't... I don't know," she said helplessly, sitting down on the floor cross-legged. She snatched one of her daggers off the workbench and began to whet the blade, smoothing dings and notches that had been made in their last use.

Bethany sat beside her and combed her fingers through her hair to straighten it somewhat while she watched her elder sister work. "You're not going to take Isabela into the Deep Roads, are you?"

Aria had to laugh at this. "Absolutely not. The darkspawn don't want to be seduced or screwed. They want to kill."

"Aria!" Bethany exclaimed in bemusement.

"Well?" Aria challenged. "They don't."

"She'd probably take that as a challenge."

"I think you're right," Aria replied.

"I know you don't want me to go," Bethany quietly stated. "But I want to. I want to take out as many of those blighters as humanly possible for what they did to Carver and our home."

Aria sighed. "Bethany, this isn't about revenge. And if you die down there, well I daren't even return home. Mother would kill me on sight. That'd be two siblings I'd let down and that's just...beyond unacceptable."

"Carver's death wasn't your fault. I wish that... I wish that we knew then what we know now. Maybe things would have been different."

"Good morning, darlings!" Leandra's sing song voice greeted their ears then. "Up so early! Or is it the other way around?"

Aria and Bethany stood to embrace their matriarch then settled around the small, rough-hewn table that served for their dining pleasure. Bethany poured them all glasses of water from the pitcher. Leandra broke off pieces of fresh bread and bits of cheese for their breakfast.

"Did you finally realize what day it was?" Leandra chided once they'd tucked in to their meal.

Aria blushed. "Yes."

"She was teased awfully about it last night," Bethany defended, laughing.

"Knowing your cohorts, I don't doubt it," Leandra said in response. She regarded the bouquets on the table with a sad smile. "I miss the days of being young and hale."

"I'll be glad when they're over," Aria half-joked.

"Well then, you'd better find a husband of good station. I'm sure many of the Hightown bachelors would be all too happy-"

Bethany burst into a fit of giggles at this and Aria lightly kicked her under the table. Leandra looked from one to the other.

"Did I miss some secret?" Leandra asked mischievously. "Did someone propose already?"

Aria nearly squealed at the stab that sent to her already damaged ego. "No!"

Bethany giggled and shook her head, taking an oversized bite of bread to keep herself quiet.

"Oh. Good. I was only joking," Leandra laughed.

"Can't you biddies give a weary old man just a **little** peace and quiet?!" Gamlen shouted then from his room.

Aria threw her dagger at the door to his room, making sure that the pommel hit the door instead of her freshly sharpened bladed. It made a terribly loud thud when it hit, and was even louder still when it clattered to the floor. She stood to fetch it and met Gamlen as he whipped open the door. He saw the dagger laying on the floor and watched, wide-eyed, as Aria picked it back up and sheathed it.

"Did you just throw **that** at my door?!"

Aria twirled the dagger tip on her index finger while spinning it with her other hand. She gave him her most devilish glare and he threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Heathens, Leandra! You raised bloody heathens!" he yelled, snatching his coat off the hook by the front door and blustering outside into the day. He slammed the door so hard that the bouquets wobbled.

"I'm proud of my heathens," Leandra said to the closed door. "And my heathens should be off to bed. I've half a mind to keep you awake all day to teach you a lesson—but I know how hard you work. Off to bed, little doves, so you can make use of the rest of the day whence you wake."

"I am well rested, mother. Did you need someone to accompany you to market?" Bethany chirped.

"That would be lovely," Leandra replied, looking to her exhausted eldest. "Bed, young lady. I suspect you've had a rough evening."

Aria sighed, stood languorously, then stretched. She covered a yawn with the back of her hand. "Have fun," she said simply, kissing her mother's, then her sister's head before she trudged wearily into the tiny hole they called a bed room. "A rough evening indeed," she whispered as she lay her head down on the thin pillow. "And that's just the beginning I fear."


	19. Chapter EIGHTEEN

_A/N: Because I couldn't sleep and already had most of this scene concocted already, you lucky lovelies get a second chapter this week. Things between Fenris and Hawke are going to get a lot...hotter. But it's a slow burn. :) Enjoy!_

**Chapter 18**

Aria sat on the bluffs overlooking the bay that led into Kirkwall's famed gloomy harbour. She watched the blood-red water mirror the sky as dawn gently broke night's cloaked hold on the land. The gulls sang their raucous songs as they circled the fishing boats leaving for the day's catch. She continued whetting the blade of her favorite dagger, though it didn't really need it. The blade was keen enough to split the hair on a spider's ass.

The clocktower in Hightown chimed five times then, renting the still, quiet dawn air with its doleful melody. She stood and cast one last longing gaze towards Ferelden before she sheathed her dagger, adjusted her accoutrements, then sprinted back towards town.

As she entered the already bustling merchant's guild in the dwarven section of the ancient city, Aria saw that all of her friends-at-arms were already there. Bethany waved her over, her eyes bright with worry.

"Where were you all night? We were beginning to fear the worst," Aria's little sister quietly said as the two siblings strode arm-in-arm up to the waiting expedition.

"Thinking," Aria tersely replied. She motioned for her friends to circle 'round and they were interrupted by Bartrand.

The skeevy, dastardly elder brother of Varric gave a speech to his men, but was interrupted by the arrival of the Hawke matriarch. Aria and Bethany took her aside. This was the choice Aria dreaded most to make. She would have to face Bethany's ire—and pissing off a rather powerful mage was never a good idea. Even if that mage was kin.

"You I understand wanting to go. But your sister?" Leandra pleaded as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest of the people present for the expedition.

"Mother, Bethany is staying," Aria wearily said.

Bethany was silent a moment then hugged her big sister. "Be careful, sister," she said when she pulled away, tears in her large, doe-like brown eyes.

"Always," Aria replied, her normally charismatic demeanor replaced with one of seriousness.

Aria watched them leave the square quickly, so as not to draw any more attention to themselves. Aveline strode up then and only nodded at Aria before heading off in the direction of the Viscount's seat. The rest of the party gathered around Aria while Varric hammered out last minute details with his brother.

"Who are you taking?" Isabela asked, twirling her dagger in much the same way Aria did when she was nervous. Aria knew the rogue pirate captain did not want to go.

Aria looked at all of them in turn. Merrill was bouncing on the balls of her feet like a little school girl waiting for someone to pick her for their team in Red Rover. Fenris actually smiled. Anders looked haunted, as usual.

"Isabela, Merrill, you can return home. I do ask that you keep an eye out for my mother and sister while I'm away," Aria said at length, her words doing nothing to hide the weariness from which she suffered. It'd been two days since she'd last slept.

"Thank the Maker," Isabela gushed. She'd been holding her breath. She grabbed Merrill's arm before the Dalish blood mage could protest and all but dragged her back towards Lowtown.

Aria silently walked over to Bartrand and Varric, Anders and Fenris in tow.

"Family drama settled?" Bartrand quipped as they walked up.

Aria just nodded and they set out. She followed behind Varric and Bartrand, lost in her own thoughts. She knew leaving Bethany was the right thing to do. She hated the fact that she needed Anders in the Deep Roads, when he loathed them so. Fenris was wound tighter than an 8 day clock, but was silent. She could feel him watching her.

The past week Aria had avoided everyone, with the exception of Merrill. They had broached the topic of Merrill's tattoos and the ink that the Dalish used to create them, which led to a drunken spur-of-the-moment decision to become one of the people. Aria let Merrill brand her with a blood red hawk tattoo that spanned the entire width of her shoulders. It was a secret she hoped the elf would keep.

Beyond all that, Aria had spent her days wandering outside the city at the base of the mountains and along the Wounded Coast, conducting her own patrols and just thinking. Always thinking. This was what she had worked so hard to do. This was the job that was going to put everything right. And in the very least, she'd die trying.

They made camp that night within earshot of a waterfall. The land was foreign, but still felt the same. The trees here were just as tall, the rocks the same color, the dirt on the rutted paths they trod smelled the same as it did anywhere else in Kirkwall. It felt just like any other foray she'd ever made. It gave her some comfort. She'd lived this long, hadn't she?

The dwarves and humans of the expedition set up their small tents and lit a few cookfires. A few of them went out to hunt and scout the area for any imminent danger. Aria scouted the river and took with her a net to catch some of the abundant river trout. She found the waterfall and committed the location to memory. When she bathed this evening, she fully intended to use the natural shower here.

After she'd caught nearly twenty large fish, Aria returned to camp. The dwarven cooks set to work immediately on the fish, adding them to the bounty of deer and pheasant other hunters had brought. Aria set up her own small tent next to Varric and Bartrand's, then fetched her bathing implements. Not wanting to be interrupted, she stealthily set off for the falls again, running barefoot most of the way so as not to be followed. She was quite fleet of foot and the past two years of endless traveling and fighting had given her endurance beyond imagining.

She stripped quickly, settled her items on a flat rock next to the spray, and stood under the water, letting it wash away all her stress and worries. She didn't care that it was cold. She needed to feel something other than the mind-numbing worry that nagged her constantly anymore.

"Sod it. Where'd she run off to now?" Varric sleepily asked as Anders woke him with the news that Aria was gone. Varric had taken the liberty of getting a quick nap before dinner.

"She walked down to the river about an hour ago," Fenris answered the dwarf from his perch next to the cooking fire.

The sun was just beginning to set in the west, the signs of night fettering the horizon with fingers of red, purple, and gold. Anders and Varric joined him, each pulling up large hunks of firewood they'd taken from the forest to sit upon.

"She spends more time in the water than most fish," Anders sourly stated, kicking a small rock into the center of the fire. One of the dwarves sitting across from the fire glowered at him.

They all watched as a small, bright plume of sparks erupted, momentarily showering the spit with its heat. The brace of venison, trout, and wild vegetables sizzled and crackled as a result and Fenris turned slowly to glance at the mage.

"In Tevinter, it is custom to bathe daily. I suppose that's why it smells better there," the elf deadpanned without looking towards the mage again.

Varric chuckled low in his chest. "Blondie smells ok. If you don't mind the spirit stench."

"For the love of Andraste, dwarf. Spirits don't smell!" Anders replied in irritation. He stood and glared at his companions. "She's been gone an hour. I'm going to make sure she's ok."

"If she's bathing, she'll require privacy. Wait a little longer, Blondie. She'll be back," Varric good-naturedly replied.

Fenris growled. "If it's cheap voyeuristic thrills you seek, the Blooming Rose would probably be more to your taste. Let the lady be."

"I don't take orders from you," Anders bitterly shot back. "And I'm genuinely concerned, not desperate to spy on an unsuspecting naked woman who could probably dispense of me quite easily if she so chose."

"At least we agree on something," Fenris snorted.

"You know, she normally doesn't take this long," Varric said after a few tense moments of silence passed. "Maybe someone should go check on her."

Anders moved to leave, but Fenris swiftly rose to his feet. "I'll go. You stay here. The dwarf may need your assistance if something should arise."

Varric chuckled again. "Go on, bring back our wayward adventurer."

With a grunt of approval, Fenris snatched up his longsword and started down the path that led to the river. They had made camp a few hundred yards away, careful that raiders on the river wouldn't see their campfire overnight. Not that anything but an entire army of darkspawn could threaten the expedition's enormous entourage. Fenris made his way down the winding game trail and stopped once the trees cleared from the river's banks. He scanned the shoreline in either direction, but saw no sign of Aria.

Perplexed, he started looking at the ground for tracks. He sifted through the woodland creatures' prints and found a set of fresh-looking barefoot human tracks. Sighing, he followed them up the heavily forested river bank for a good three hundred yards, where the base of a small waterfall emerged from the rocks above. His keen elven eyes noted a pile of clothes on a large boulder off the shallow river's bank.

Upon further investigation, he noticed a figure within the falling water, illuminated by the newly risen full moon, glinting silver off the shining, alabaster skin. It was a human form, waist deep in the water, facing away from him. He smiled to himself in relief when he noted the long, silvery white hair that fell down the form's back. As he watched, she lifted the heavy, drenched mass onto the top of her head and began lathering some exotic scented soap into it.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight. Her bared, lithe form, her beautiful hair, the graceful, fluid way she moved—though they captivated him every time he saw her, it was not these things that drew his focus at present. It was the bright red swath between her shoulder blades.

He darted closer, fear quickening his pulse and stealing his breath. He knew she'd taken quite a few nasty hits in their recent battles, but not in so crucial of a spot. Anders had always been a thorough healer, despite his irritating status as an apostate. How could something of this magnitude have escaped him? And then Fenris realized, now that he was close enough, that it wasn't a wound, at least not in the sense he had feared. It was a design he'd seen throughout his travels of Thedas. It was the Dalish symbol for hawk. He recalled Varric and Anders talking about it a couple days before, when Merrill had drunkenly admitted tattooing the rogue party leader, marveling at how Hawke had allowed herself to be branded by the Dalish's craftsman. He hadn't believed them, but now he saw they were right.

The whimsical scarlet design was mesmerizing, clear and plain in detail and set off perfectly by the alabaster hue of her skin. The wings' tips flared out just enough that they gracefully touched her shoulder blades. The head and eyes were alert, watching from its perch just below her neck. It was simple, but beautiful. The ink was obviously from the Dales, and Fenris knew from his limited conversations with Merrill that such tattoos were very painful when administered. He touched his throat where similar designs adorned his own skin. Very painful indeed—except, she'd chosen to have it done. He'd been forced against his will. She was quite the puzzle.

Aria walked into the fall of the water then, her hair tumbling down her back again as the suds rinsed away under the swift guidance of her fingertips. The trance he'd been under was momentarily broken as her tattoo receded from view under the cascade of her hair. He could smell the enticing aroma of vanilla, lavender, and sage as the breeze carried the scent of her soap downwind to him. Crisp, clean, and sweet. His eyes then followed the contours of the muscles in her back, the hollows just above her buttocks, the tops of which were only just visible above the water. A dull, hot ache coursed through his lower belly.

He watched as she snatched at another bottle on the rock ledge just off to the side of the falls. She dispensed a creamy liquid into her palm and repeated the movements she'd made while applying the soap. As she stepped into the water fall once more, shame slammed into him. Here he was, gawking and very much enjoying the scene before him as he had just accused Anders of wanting to do. She deserved her privacy, her dignity. She'd given them all so much; it was the least he could do in return.

He waited until she grabbed her toiletries from the rock ledge and waded towards her clothes before he melted into the forest shadows. She couldn't know he'd seen her. Perhaps he'd wait and return to camp after she had. The others no doubt would be suspicious. Anders was on her heels like a lost, lovesick puppy and Varric had too keen an eye for intrepid details. The last thing he wanted Aria Hawke to think was that he was so obsessed with her that he'd fallen to the level of a peeping tom.

He turned his back while she dressed, though he stole at least one more glance at the crimson hawk design on her back. It was an odd place for a tattoo on a woman. In Tevinter and the rest of Thedas, women proudly tattooed their hands, arms, and faces, though most of them were simply skin dye that faded or completely washed off with time. Dalish tattoos had the ink imbedded under the skin, which was an extremely painful endeavour. It was an expression of self, meant to be seen by all. The hidden nature of Aria's tattoo made him wonder what else she may have concealed on her person.

Shaking his head to clear his meandering, libidinous thoughts, he turned to check on her progress once more. She was fully clothed and armoured at this point, presently working on twisting her silvery mass of hair into the ornate bun she normally sported. Fenris decided that now was the time he should approach her. He could make it look as though he'd just walked up and was relieved to see her. Sighing, he stepped onto the path and started walking towards her, sure to make plenty of noise so she would hear his approach.

"Is something wrong?" Aria worriedly asked, trotting up to him in the moonlight as soon as he emerged from the treeline.

"No," he tersely replied. "You were gone quite some time, so we worried something ill had befallen you."

Aria blushed at this, stung slightly by his sharp tone. "Oh, no, I just... Had to clear my head," she honestly stated, falling into step next to him.

"I understand," Fenris softly said, turning to look at her quizzically.

"What?" Aria asked, fidgeting with her hair a moment. It didn't feel like it was sitting right. She stopped and fixed it.

"Nothing," Fenris grunted, continuing back toward camp.

"Ok then," Aria replied, breaking into a jog.

Fenris followed and together, they ran back to camp. By the time they returned, the members of the expedition were mostly done eating, and at least half of them had turned in for the night. Several kept watch on the outskirts of the enormous party, many of them hidden within the low branches of the tall trees.

Aria took the plate Anders offered her and she ravenously devoured the entire thing. Varric was telling stories near their cookfire to a group of young men and dwarves still keen on having the adventure of their lives. One of them passed her a wineskin and she drank heartily from it before handing it back.

She was aware that Anders seemed to be in a rare good mood and Fenris was much more cagey and stand-offish than usual. It made her wonder as to what fray the two had while she was gone from camp. Aria had expected their moods to be the opposite. Anders should have been doom and gloom about going back into the Deep Roads. Fenris should have been all too happy to be someplace Danarius would never find him, nor would the Magister ever venture into such a place after him.

Not wanting to be further entangled in any mage/anti-mage drama, Aria quietly stood and took her leave while Varric told another one of his many engaging tales. She wouldn't have to worry about being on watch. There were hirelings for that. It was a nice sentiment to have. Let the hired help do the heavy lifting for once. Maker knew she'd done enough of that herself.


	20. Chapter NINETEEN

_A/N: Apparently I'm on a writing binge. Newly inspired to keep writing this fanfic and I have a few more scenes for further chapters constructed. Just have to build the rest of the story around them. Enjoy! Thank you Warrioresscat for your awesome input! Criticism and praise are both appreciated. :) _

**Chapter 19**

The expedition took nearly nine days to reach the Deep Roads entrance Bartrand had selected from Anders' maps. It had been a fairly uneventful journey, but Aria well knew that was not a sign of things to come. Everyone in Ferelden knew the Deep Roads were something terrible to be feared, and with good reason.

They ventured nearly two days into the carefully constructed tunnels before they hit a cave in. Bartrand barked for them to set camp, his unpleasant demeanor reaching new levels of loathsome after he hit the dwarf who informed him of the collapse.

Varric and Aria offered to search for an alternate route, and Aria promised the merchant Bodahn that she'd look for his wayward simpleton of a son, Sandal, who had decided to disappear. Naturally, Fenris and Anders accompanied them.

They battled nearly two dozen darkspawn before they found Sandal, who had amazingly turned an ogre into crystal. A trail of darkspawn pieces and parts littered the ground before the simple dwarf man, and when Aria asked him how he'd dispatched of them, he simply replied with "Boom!" As for the ogre, all he said was "Not Enchantment!" He also gave Aria a new rune stone he'd crafted. From the weight and energy of the thing, Aria could tell it was a powerful one.

Aria led them through yet more caverns and side passages, and they managed to find a way around. They quickly reported back to Bartrand, then settled down to rest for the evening. Bartrand had issued a gag order on everyone so that their formidable presence was left as undetected as possible. No one could speak above one another, there was to be no singing, and no one could practice sparring, as many of the young men and dwarves were wont to do.

Aria set her bed roll next to Bodahn's fire and listened to the people around her speaking softly. She curled up next to the fire, using her pack as a pillow, and laid there watching the flames until nearly everyone but the first watch were either laying down or fast asleep. She was startled and nearly whipped her blade at Fenris when he appeared next to her.

"It's just me," he softly said, placing his own bedroll next to hers. He didn't seem at all worried about her blade.

Aria simply nodded, then situated herself again. Anders set himself up on the other side of her, Varric on the other side of him. In a few moments, she could hear Anders and Varric both softly snoring. When she turned to look at Fenris, she found he was watching her, his eyes lit with some dark emotion she couldn't place.

"I thought you were fond of sleeping," he murmured, softly enough that only she could discern the words.

Aria smiled bitterly. "I used to be. Seems...It's not so important anymore," she replied just as softly. Her heartbeat went skittering when he inched himself closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved.

"You think too much, sometimes," he nearly whispered.

"If there's a way to stop, I'm all ears," she laughed quietly. She reached out to gently touch his face. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, his hand covering hers.

"I've a confession to make," he said after a moment, his eyes riveted on hers as soon as they opened.

A lump rose in Aria's throat and anxiety set her nerves to singing. She offered him a smile as she asked, "About what?"

"I...saw you. At the falls. When we first started out from Kirkwall." He bowed his head in shame, wincing as though he expected her to strike him.

She tilted his chin up slightly, adjusting her pillow under her neck so that she could more comfortably look at him. His eyes bore testament to the guilt and shame he felt at having glimpsed her in her most vulnerable state.

"So?" she asked. "I'd rather it was you than any other person in this camp."

Fenris actually blushed at this and he avoided her gaze for a second before he pulled her to rest right next to him. He flared his lyrium brandings and flooded her with warmth. Aria didn't bother to protest. She was starting to get cold from sleeping on the chilly stone floor, despite her thick wool blanket, and the comfort his presence and warmth gave her would allow her weary mind reprieve.

"Sleep," he softly said, his fingers combing through loose tendrils of her hair. "I fear tomorrow may be the end of the easiest part of this journey."

Aria didn't respond. She rested her head next to his, their "pillows" pushed together. He threw his blanket across hers, then settled his arm comfortably over her shoulder. He flared his warmth once more and she closed her eyes.

Fenris watched her fall asleep, taking the liberty of smoothing her hair. Though she hadn't been able to take her customary bath in a few days now, she still smelled of lavender and vanilla. He heard a soft snarl come from just beyond where they lay and his green eyes collided with the brown ones of Anders. The mage was furious, but said nothing. He didn't have to. The look on his face said it all. Fenris quirked his sardonic half smile at the mage, kissed the top of Aria's sleeping head, then laid his own down to rest.

Aria woke some time later, feeling the most refreshed she'd felt in nearly a month. Fenris was helping get the cooking fires going when she woke. Anders was talking with Bartrand, pointing to places on the map. Most of the camp had been picked up and the expeditioners moved about restlessly. Aria swiftly gathered her gear and made for the front of the train. Varric joined her and they scouted ahead for a bit, retracing their steps from yesterday and making sure there were no new darkspawn in the area. Satisfied that it was safe, they returned to where the expedition waited. Bartrand led the way back through and they spent the next two days navigating the huge, ancient tunnels down to the forgotten Thaig. Each of those two nights, Aria fell asleep next to Fenris, and each of those two nights, the growing hatred between Fenris and Anders deepened.

"This is it," Bartrand reverently said as the scouting party consisting of Fenris, Anders, Varric, Aria and himself stopped outside a very old, sinister looking door.

Anders and Fenris wrenched the door open and the scent of dust and decay that rushed out nearly made Aria gag. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and stealthily crept into the darkness. An eery glow emanated from the curiously twisted rock formations throughout the structure, adding to the evil aura that permeated the chasm.

"Is that... Lyrium?" Varric asked from behind her, startling her somewhat.

"It's not like any lyrium I've ever seen," Aria replied as the rest of their scouting party joined them.

Aria continued looking around, searching for anything of value. Here was where they would make their fortune. If they could make it out of this place alive. The icy fingers of worry grazed the back of her neck and she kept her daggers at the ready.

They ascended a banked set of stairs up to what looked like an altar. A black, glowing idol of some sort sat on the altar and Aria swore she could hear soft singing. She turned the idol over with the tip of her dagger and inspected it. When nothing happened, Varric snatched it up, his eyes going wide in the low light.

"Bartrand, look at this!" he said, tossing the idol to his brother. "Could be worth a fortune."

Bartrand gave a low whistle and inspected it for himself. "You could be right," he said, turning back toward the doorway.

"Let's keep looking. Probably more like it around here," Varric suggested as they started to spread out and explore the ancient thaig's secrets.

It was then that Aria saw the door closing. "Varric! The door!"

The four remaining party members rushed it, but in vain. It was closed, and locked from the outside.

"Bartrand! The door closed behind you!" Varric called out.

"Sorry _brother_, but this is too good to split three ways," Bartrand replied through the door.

Varric screamed at the door for a few moments, but to no avail. He sank against the door, his brother's betrayal cutting him straight to the marrow of his bones. Aria tested the door, but shook her head, knowing this wasn't a way out.

"C'mon Varric. I'm not getting eaten by darkspawn. Not it if I can help it anyway," Aria said after a moment. The dwarf accepted her hand and let her haul him back to his feet.

"I swear, I'm going to find that sonofabitch, sorry Mother, and I'm gonna kill him!" Varric shouted one last insult at the door.

They all began immediately searching for an alternate route, desperation starting to take root in all of them. Aria mumbled angrily to herself. Of all the places she'd been in the past year alone, this was not where she was meeting her end. She was NOT dying down here, Maker and Andraste both be damned!

"Here! There's a tunnel," Aria called after a few moments, Anders and Fenris by her side. Varric trod over wearily to join them. Anders and Fenris looked relieved. Varric was still processing his brother's actions.

They fought through more darkspawn, and creatures that Varric said were rock wraiths. The fighting ceased when a rock wraith the size of a mature dragon appeared. It offered them help, but when Aria consulted Anders about the creature's nature, they realized it was a demon. Aria turned the demon's help down, much to everyone else's approval.

The party continued onward, dispensing of more wraiths until they came to a huge chasm. At the center stood yet another wraith that dwarfed the previous enormity they'd encountered. Weary from the constant battling, Aria called them all to her and took refuge behind a large pillar when the monstrosity unleashed an attack that filled the chasm with destructive red beams.

"If we get out of this alive, I'm going to filet that brother of yours and feed him to the fish!" Aria snapped, out of breath. The red beams diminished and they returned to attacking while it recharged.

"Not if I find him first!" Varric yelled back once they took refuge behind another pillar again.

"He's a dead dwarf," Fenris spat, launching another assault as the creature recharged once more.

It felt as though hours and hours had gone by while they whittled away at the beast and finally, Aria launched herself at the monstrosity's face, burying one of her daggers into the dome of light that served as its head. She fell to the ground so hard that a few of her ribs cracked and the impact knocked the breath out of her. Her head cracked against the hard stones and her body went first painfully rigid, then completely limp.

She laid there a moment, her head spinning, unable to breathe for the pain. Anders wrenched her to her feet and she cried out, doubling over against him, wheezing and fighting for breath. She struggled for control of anything, her mind blank in her panic to breathe.

"Shh, shh, just let me-" Anders soothed, his voice sounding dull and disembodied, and she felt the healing white light of the mage's considerable ability wash through her.

The ribs knit back together and the muscles she'd torn in her exertions were also repaired. Aria took great lungfuls of air, struggling to stay standing. She stood in his embrace for a moment, trying to clear her head and get her bearings again. He released her abruptly and strode away from her without a second glance. She stumbled a little, but quickly regained her balance. It hurt, but right now was not the time to deal with it. There was work to be done. They all joined Varric, who stood looking wide-eyed and speechless at a dragon's hoard worth of treasure.

The four of them took what they could carry, Anders fashioning a wagon of sorts from two staves and blanket. They also found the key that opened the door which the demon had claimed only he could do. So much for needing his help, anyway. Aria was glad that she didn't accept the deal. She could sleep with a clear conscience. That was never a path down which she ever wanted to trod.

They camped in another abandoned thaig that night, one that was blessedly darkspawn free and looked as though it had been centuries since another living soul had occupied it at all. They lit no cook fire, as they had nothing but dry rations to sustain them here. Varric shared his wineskin with everyone, Fenris shared his dried venison strips, Anders a loaf of bread, and Aria contributed some dried berries and nuts for their dinner.

"I'll take first watch," Anders gloomily stated, having grown accustomed to the hirelings. It also piqued his jealous ire that Aria chose to sleep so close to the Tevinter fugitive. So angry was he, that it made him physically ill to watch her fall asleep within the elf's embrace.

Weak, irritable, and still fuzzy-headed from the nasty fall she'd endured earlier, Aria was asleep long before Fenris and Varric had even unpacked their bed rolls. Varric and Fenris sat talking in the reddish darkness, the only light coming from the molten lava flows all around them.

"What do you plan to do with the money you get from this expedition, elf?" Varric said once Anders had disappeared and Aria was lying a few yards away, her back to them.

"I don't know. I suppose I should fix up the mansion," Fenris said, sitting back against a fallen pillar.

"But you won't," Varric chuckled.

"No," Fenris said, looking over at the dwarf, the corner of his mouth lifted in his trademark sardonic smirk. "I probably won't."

"So, what's with this sudden coziness with Hawke?" Varric asked, lowering his voice considerably.

"I don't understand your question," Fenris hedged, just as quietly.

"I think you do," Varric pressed. "I have stories to tell. It's better if there's insight into a situation."

"There is no situation. She gets cold easily, she hasn't been sleeping, and we all know how Aria loves her sleep. Helping make it so she is at her best keeps all of us alive," Fenris diplomatically stated.

"Well-played elf, but that's not the story I see. Very well, keep your secrets. They'll come out sooner or later," Varric nonchalantly replied, setting about to unrolling his bed roll.

Fenris did the same, near Aria, but not so close as last night. It felt like ages had passed since then. Truth be told, he hadn't slept that good in years, what few hours he did manage to sleep. He felt oddly about the whole thing. It felt as though... The entire set of dynamics surrounding both Aria and him had shifted. It wasn't necessarily an uncomfortable feeling, but at the same time, it was foreign to him.

They had only slept a couple of hours before Anders returned with word that there were stirrings in the tunnels behind them. They quickly picked up their small makeshift camp and pressed on, eager to find a way out of the cramped tunnels and into open ground where they could more easily defend themselves.

At last, many hours later, or so it felt, they emerged from the Deep Roads. Luckily, they were but a mile or so away from the entrance they'd used to enter that blighted hell hole and quickly picked up the road that would lead them back to Kirkwall.

"How long until you think we return?" Aria asked as they picked up the road to Kirkwall.

"A week, if we're unlucky," Varric replied.

"And...if we're lucky?" Aria glibly asked, stretching her arms to the sky and delighting in the warmth of the late afternoon sun. How dwarves lived in Orzammar she would never understand. She felt as though she couldn't breathe and would wilt without open sky and sunlight.

"We stumble over Bartrand's corpse along the way," Varric spat, picking up speed.

Aria followed, along with Fenris and Anders, and they made excellent time. They traveled nearly 10 miles by the time the setting sun forced them to stop and make camp for the night. Varric shot a couple of rabbits and roasted them on a hastily erected spit over the cook fire. Anders gathered some wild carrots and some tender leaves for added sustenance, then constructed a simple lean-to out of pine boughs to cover them all should it rain. Fenris worked on sharpening blades and repairing bolts.

Aria was angry that her toiletries were abandoned at the last expedition encampment, but she craved to be clean. She went to the river that ran parallel to the road, though far enough that the trees and boulder formations hid her from view. She stripped and waded into a shallow part of the river, until the water was up to her waist. The water was absolute heaven on her dusty, dry, sunlight-starved skin. Filth, gore, dust, and whatever noxious things she'd been forced to endure washed away and she felt slightly more human when she emerged from the water again some time later.

It was nearly dark by the time she returned to their makeshift camp. Varric handed her a large leaf plate with her dinner on it and she ravenously devoured it. They sat around the fire in companionable silence for a good long while, each lost in their own thoughts. Varric had taken the liberty of counting up the worth of their spoils and estimated that Fenris and Anders would walk away from this endeavor 75 sovereigns richer, while Varric would keep 125, and Aria would receive 200. No one argued with his logic. Flipping coin was something he was adept at, as were games involving the juggling of numbers.

"I'm sure Bethany and your mother will be ecstatic when you return," Varric finally said at last, breaking the long silence. His gaze was studying Hawke's visage.

"I'm buying the Amell estate back as soon as we get back to Kirkwall. I'm not spending another Maker-forsaken night in that shit hole Gamlen calls a house," Aria nearly growled, tossing a twig into the fire.

"Moving up in the world," Anders quietly stated.

"We all are," Varric said with a smile. "I'll take first watch. Get some sleep."

Aria was all too happy to comply. She was thoroughly exhausted, though it was nice to be somewhat clean again. She unrolled her bed roll and settled near the fire. Anders took a spot across the fire from her, and Fenris took a spot near Aria.

The moon was not out tonight, but the stars were. They were bright and infinite in number. Aria laid on her back, staring up at that sky, thankful to be out of the Deep Roads. She was thankful to be headed home. But most of all, she was thankful that soon, she'd be able to lift her family from the hole they'd been plunged into when the Blight destroyed Lothering.

She sighed at this thought and turned to see Fenris lying on his side watching her. She smiled timidly at him and he returned the gesture with the slight lifting of the corner of his mouth. Exhaustion stole over her, and she could no longer keep it at bay. She mouthed "Good night" to the elf, who mouthed it back, and then, she allowed her eyelids to drift shut. Her last thought before she succumbed to deep, dreamless sleep, was of the happy homecoming she was sure to have. Maker knew she'd bloody well earned it.

They reached Kirkwall before sunup five days later, having traveled all night the night prior. Every single one of them was sick to death of this journey and the promise of a warm hearth, good food, and a soft bed under a proper roof was enough to keep them traveling through the night.

Anders detached from them as soon as they hit Kirkwall, muttering only a terse "Farewell" before he headed to his own humble abode. Aria, Varric, and Fenris went to the Hanged Man for a hearty breakfast, after which Aria and Fenris left Varric to catch up on his own rest.

They walked up to Hightown together, Aria seeing Fenris safely home. He invited her in for a bottle of wine, but she graciously declined, her mission for the day clear. Go to the Viscount, buy the title, and have Aveline and her guardsmen remove any soul left in the estate.

The price on the mansion was surprisingly cheap. The Viscount accepted 25 sovereigns on sight for the place and quickly signed the deed into her name. He even provided a decree for Hawke to take to Aveline.

The Guard-Captain was overjoyed to see Aria, informing her that the expedition had returned much fewer in number than it had when it left. Bartrand was nowhere to be found and many people had spread rumor that Hawke had been slain by darkspawn, along with Varric, Anders, and Fenris.

There was no one in the Amell estate and it looked like it had been vacant quite some time. Aveline sent a few guardsmen in to clean it up a bit before Hawke moved her mother and sister in. Just as Aria was descending the steps from Hightown into Lowtown, Anders came running to her.

"Aria, you have to go home. Now," he said, desperation cracking his voice. "Now! Before it's too late!"

"Anders, what in Andraste's name is going on?" Aria wearily asked, jogging the rest of the way down the steps and through the Lowtown marketplace.

"Templars," Anders growled in the voice of Justice. "I have to go! I can't!" He ran back towards Darktown, drawing his hood over his head so no one would see the white light of the Fade cracking his skin.

Rage, fear, and despair slammed into Aria then and she raced to Gamlen's. As she burst through the door, she realized she was already far too late.

The Templar, Cullen, greeted her amiably as she made her reckless entrance. She'd worked with the man before and had much respect for him. His eyes were sad as he regarded her.

"I'm sorry, Hawke," he said. "Harboring an apostate is a hanging offense, but the Viscount dismissed the charges against you due to your good standing in this city. High reputation notwithstanding, however, I am forced to take Miss Bethany into the Circle."

"There must be another way-" Aria began to say, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Aria don't. I will be ok," Bethany reassured her, hugging her sister. "I'm so glad you made it back. Take care of Mother."

The templars led her sister out of the house. Cullen inclined his head to her as he departed, smiling sadly before shutting the door. Aria stood looking numbly at the door for a few moments, unable to process what had just happened. When Leandra collapsed to the floor sobbing, her protective instinct took over and she held the woman.

A long time passed before Leandra stopped crying and the Hawke matriarch stood of her own volition. She looked down at her eldest daughter and smiled through her tears.

"They said you were dead. I feared the worse. I'm so glad you've returned," Leandra said, tugging Aria to her feet.

"I know this in no way makes up for Bethany being taken into the circle, Mother, but...pack your things. We're not staying here any longer."

"Thank the Maker!" Gamlen hooted.

"What do you mean, child?" Leandra asked, taking the roll of parchment Aria offered to her. "Oh Aria! The expedition was a success then? I can go home! We...we can go home!"

"What?!" Gamlen snarled, snatching the parchment from his sister. His eyes grew wide and his skin went green when he read the deed to the Amell Estate, and saw its new owner.

Aria packed Bethany's things away in her trunk and dragged the heavy thing outside. She then packed her own things, and took the trunks and satchels full of her Mother's possessions as well. Aria then borrowed Lady Elegant's three pack mules and the remaining two free Hawkes made the trip up to Hightown.

The guards were still tidying things up when they arrived, and a few of them helped unload the mules. Aria left her mother to start setting up the place to her liking while she returned the mules to Lady Elegant. From there, she went on a spending spree. She had the grocers deliver food to the estate, bought a few new dresses for both her mother and herself, a new necklace for her mother, and from there, it was off to the furniture store. She bought two new beds with fine linens, two sofas, a dining table with ten chairs, a writing desk, a beautiful deep bath tub, and a work bench; all of which were promptly delivered to the estate.

When she finally returned to her new home, it was nearly dusk. Mother had directed all of the deliveries with happy grace, and when Aria finally stepped over the threshold of her mansion, the place actually felt like home. The Hawke matriarch even had water heated for a bath waiting for her daughter.

"Freshen up, my darling. Then, we'll dine together. It has been both a terrible and wonderful day," her mother greeted her.

Aria lugged the heavy buckets from her bedroom hearth to the new tub across the room once mother had exited. She then stripped out of her road-grungy clothes and delighted in the scented foam bath. She laid in the tub, not letting the horrors of earlier steal into her thoughts. She'd deal with that later. Right now, all she wanted was to just enjoy the fruits of her many labors.

Nearly an hour after slipping into the tub, she finally emerged and let the water go down the drain in the floor. That was a nicety she hadn't experienced in all her years. She dressed in a fine new robe and silly looking, but comfortable slippers before she wearily descended the stairs.

They ate broasted quail, asparagus, and boiled potatoes for supper, supplemented with a fine Rivaini wine Varric had sent whilst Aria was out. After supper, Leandra surprised Aria with a decadent chocolate cake for dessert. When they had finished eating, Aria bade her mother good night.

She sat on the new bed for a few moments, hardly able to believe that this, all of this, this house, this bed, these clothes, this life—it was hers now. She'd fought tooth and nail, bled, cried, and sweat for it. Gone were the days of living on the good graces of others. Gone was the crushing weight that hounded her over her mother's plight. Gone were the times of just scraping by from day to day.

But Father and Carver were still dead. And now, Bethany was in the clutches of a ruthless Circle of Magi. It tasted bitter in Aria's mouth and she did not stem the flow of tears that fell from her eyes. Her beloved little sister was a slave to the Templars now. If she'd taken her into the Deep Roads, Aria might have saved her sister from that fate. For all her victories, that one defeat seemed to darken them all. She walked over to her writing desk and uncorked the bottle of wine that sat there.

When the bottle was gone, Aria's tears had ceased flowing. Her mind and body and heart were finally numb. Despite the terrible loss, though, Aria allowed herself to feel completely empty of everything as she crawled beneath the soft, sweet-smelling sheets that adorned her lavish, comfortable new bed. Tomorrow was another day, and for once, Aria wanted to just stay home.


	21. Chapter TWENTY

**Chapter 20**

A couple months passed in blessedly uneventful fashion. Bodahn and Sandal had taken up residence in Aria's new home as her menservants. Bodahn had insisted the arrangement as conditions for repaying Aria for saving Sandal in the Deep Roads. Profits from the mines came in and Aria found that merchants were willing to gift her their wares if she let them use her as an endorsement. She and Isabela went shopping together. Merrill visited regularly to chit chat idly about the goings on in the alienage. Varric frequented the Hawke estate with updates about the politics of the city and to try out his newest stories on Aria's willing ears. Fenris visited a few times, finding Leandra to be a fascinating source of information about Kirkwall. Aveline bugged Aria about helping train recruits who were better suited for Aria's style of fighting.

In all that time, Aria refused to let herself wallow in the darkness that perpetually stalked the edge of consciousness. She made merry, frequenting the Hanged Man in the evenings. She played the socialite, attending teas and parties with her new noble "friends', mostly at her mother's bidding. She worked with the City Guard at Aveline's behest to keep her mind too busy to have time to dwell.

Naturally, when Varric informed her that he was throwing a large party at the Hanged Man for all the expeditioners and anyone in Kirkwall who wanted to meet Hawke in person, she had to accept. It was here that everything seemed to come to a head for her.

Aria slammed her empty stein down on the table and licked at the mead that still lingered on her lips. The chamber musicians had just started a rousing, gypsy-like melody that stirred her blood and made her yearn to move. She winked at Isabela across the table and swiftly stood, nearly unsettling her chair in the wake of her movements.

She closed her eyes and lifted her arms above her head, allowing the music to seep in through her pores until she felt the beat within her body. She began to move, lithe and slow, allowing the enthralling notes to dictate her movements. She lost herself to the melody, not caring that several of the bar's drunk patrons hooted lewdly and offered empty promises of pleasure they could render if she so agreed. The pace of the music began to quicken, the lute and fiddle engaging in a rousing, haunting melody that spoke of the heartbreak and triumph she'd endured. She was the song's willing slave.

Fenris sat next to Varric and Isabela, tipping his tankard to his lips as Aria stood. They all watched her, enchanted by her sudden, unabashed release. He watched her hips dip and sway, her torso gyrating in perfect synchrony to the melody. Her slender, sinewy arms punctuated her movements, adding flair and deepening the enchantment. She kept her eyes closed as she moved, her expression one of utter rapture. A beautiful flush of soft pink infused her ivory cheeks and strands of her silvery hair rebelled from the ornate bun she wore. Sweat began to bead on her skin, lending her countenance an ethereal glow. As the melody deepened and hastened, he could see the slight shimmer of tears in the corners of her closed eyes.

He couldn't take his gaze away from her. A black lace choker adorned with a beautifully cut amethyst sparkled at her white throat. The emerald blouse she'd chosen to wear this evening clung to her ample bosom in the most deliciously distracting fashion, fastened by an amethyst and silver brooch at the lowest juncture of her cleavage as was publicly acceptable. The elegant off-shoulder sleeves flowed down her arms, slit from wrist to shoulder and cascading as she spun and dipped. A couple of the laces at the bottom of the blouse were undone, allowing whoever watched a glimpse of the soft, flat expanse of her white belly and the tiny violet-hued gem that dangled there in her navel. The fitted, pleated black leather skirt she wore was perhaps a little too short, but no one here was going to complain. Her long legs moved just as fluidly as the rest of her body, lending her turns the smoothness and agility they'd all known she possessed. Her soft, black doeskin boots laced up to just under her knees, adding a comely sort of breadth to her muscular calves.

"By the Stone, what's gotten into her?" Varric reverently asked no one in particular, drawing a long sip off his own tankard, his eyes riveted on Aria's face.

"What? She's just dancing," Merrill hiccupped, looking at her empty tankard with a bit of surprise.

Isabela chuckled low and suggestively. "She's exorcising her demons. I think I might just join her."

"If that's what it takes to exorcise a demon, I'd gladly possess her," Anders murmured from down the table.

Fenris fought the rage that surged within him at the bawdy banter of his party. He took a steadying draught from his tankard, closing his ears to them so that he may continue watching Aria uninterrupted. He wondered if he could ever have her like this, but to himself. If he could somehow change the world so that she would drop her guard for him… It angered him that she was so comfortable behaving in such a way with so many hungry eyes and impure thoughts present.

He swiftly reprimanded himself. Were his own eyes not so hungry nor his own thoughts so impure? Who was he to stake a claim to her? How could he blame everyone present for wanting her?

She was an enigma. The complete package. She was unbelievably kind, despite her lethal reputation. Her heart was made of solid gold and bigger than the sky. She was fair and just, though anyone who earned her wrath met a swift demise. She was cunning, quick on her feet, adept with the blade as none he'd ever before met. She could drink with the best, and laugh with the rest. Her sardonic sense of humor was much akin to his own. And yet, here and now, she was not a hardened warrior, but pure, soft woman. Joy, pain, beauty, sorrow, hope—she was a beacon for such emotions.

Seeing her like this… It added to her depth as he knew it. She was everything a man or elf could ever want. Chaste enough that she would be allowed into the Maker's kingdom, but earthly enough that she never thought herself above anyone.

All too soon, the music stopped. The patrons of the bar erupted in raucous but appreciative cheers. Aria blushed and bowed, quickly taking her seat. Before she could ask, Varric handed her another stein of mead. She took an impressive swig of it, draining half the tankard before setting it back down on the table.

It had felt good to move like that, to completely lose herself in the captivating music. Her body surged with warmth and her muscles felt deeply relaxed. For the moment her troubles were forgotten. The mead heated her belly quite pleasantly and she took in the faces of her party members. She couldn't tell whether they were appalled or mesmerized.

"What?" she managed as she swiped away the slight bit of foam that clung to her upper lip.

"That was bloody incredible," Isabela chortled, smoothing a tawny hand up Aria's alabaster forearm.

"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" Merrill innocently asked, her green eyes wide with wonder as she sat forward, like a small child hearing some grand tale for the first time.

Aria smiled bashfully and cast her gaze downward, fully realizing the effect her little outburst had had on her companions and other present company. "I don't know what came over me. I just wanted to dance."

"I think if you tell Corff before you do that next time, you could stand to make quite a bit of profit," Varric chuckled.

"Here, here!" a couple of drunken eavesdroppers agreed, toasting Varric across the aisle.

Aria chuckled. "I'd rather get my profit by the blade, if that's alright with you lot."

"Some would much prefer that, my lady," Fenris stated softly, his enchanting green eyes meeting hers through the fringe of his reckless, silvery hair. A wry smile tugged at one side of his lips.

"Prefer what, exactly?" Anders snipped, his dark eyes briefly flashing with fury as his gaze leveled on the elf.

"That she acquire her treasure by the blade," Fenris softly replied, ignoring the bite in the mage's tone. His eyes remained on Aria's.

"Right. I think another round is in order," Isabela quipped, seeking to diffuse the growing tension around them. She hailed Corff, who quickly set up a tray to be delivered.

"Agreed. Settle down, gentlemen. Tonight is for celebration! Haven't we fought enough the past few weeks? Let us simply enjoy ourselves," Aria concurred, clinking the rim of her tankard against the one proffered by Varric in a companionable toast. "So! Tell me, Varric—what do you plan on doing with that mountain of gold?"

Varric chuckled warmly and winked at Hawke. "I'm trying to get Aveline to let me petition for partial ownership of this place."

"Oh? That should be an interesting venture," Aria replied, unable to appease the sudden thrill in her pulse when her eyes met Fenris's again briefly.

"I'm inclined to agree. You've given me an idea, Hawke," Varric continued, leaning forward towards her, cradling his tankard in the crook of his arm on the table. "Dancers. To do the stuff like you and Isabela do. Might even ask you to headline."

Aria thumped him lightly on the head with her index fingertip and he sat back, laughing heartily to himself. "I dance for no one's entertainment but my own," she growled.

"Well, if she won't Varric, I certainly am up for the idea," Isabela contributed, suggestively bumping the side of her leg against his.

"Ha! I knew you would be, Rivaini. See, Hawke? This is the spirit!"

"Mmm," Aria murmured through another long sip of her mead. "But see, Isabela is quite given to her lust. I'm not so ready."

"Awww, spoil sport," Isabela chortled, flicking a shelled peanut at Aria.

Aria laughed and flicked it back at her. "Your virtue, or lack thereof is quite apparent. Mine, however—"

"Oh shut up! You're just more discrete!" Isabela interjected before the other rogue could finish.

"Discrete at what?" Merrill burped, taking the full pint that Norah offered her. "I'm confused."

Aria laughed again, throwing her head back and ignoring Merrill for the moment. "I bet you've seen more action than a harlot on a boat full of men at sea. Oh wait, that was you! Nevermind!"

Their entire party erupted in laughter, Isabela included. "Touché, Hawke. But don't try to claim utter innocence when we all know far better!"

"Do we? Where have I been?" Varric added, looking in mock surprise at Aria. "When have you ever been anything but sweet and innocent?" He looked over at Anders. "I heard she wears a chastity belt to bed."

Anders coughed on the draught he'd just taken from his glass. "How would I know?"

"Oh! You're talking about sex!" Merrill suddenly gushed. They all laughed and Varric clapped an arm around the Dalish elf's shoulders.

"Daisy, I don't know if you should be listening to this conversation," Varric teased.

"Pfff! I've had sex. Lots of it in fact. At the summer solstice—"

"Merrill, elven orgies don't count," Anders deadpanned. Laughter ensued again and Merrill seemed even more confused, but rather than debate, she simply drowned herself in her pint of mead.

"Seriously though, Hawke, when _was_ the last time you had a man—or a woman?" Isabela pressed once the laughter had subsided again, her question asked in earnest.

Aria sat back in her chair, her fingertips steepled and pressed against her lips. She sat there for a moment, honestly trying to remember her last intimate encounter. Sure, she was no stranger to the joys of the flesh, but it simply hadn't been a pressing matter as of late. At least, not until certain men and elves entered the picture. The last time she'd had a man… It was the templar in training, Ser Devon. Maker, had she almost forgotten him?

"Andraste's flaming ass, has it been that long?" Isabela pressed after a moment.

Aria laughed. "You know, I'm having a hard time remembering. It was before we came to Kirkwall, that's for certain."

Fenris had listened to this crude exchange, hating them all for their indiscretion. Such private matters shouldn't be so openly discussed. If it were just them in the room, he wouldn't have been so angry. But, with Aria's inability to contribute anything scandalous to the conversation, he found his ire subsiding.

She hadn't been with anyone since he'd known her. It was an unexpected relief. His greatest fear was that she'd been with Anders, but that had been dispelled. She remained untainted by the filth of magic, despite being nearly drowned in it by present company. Someone as beautiful and charismatic as she, with her rising status, would have no trouble entertaining herself with libidinous conquests. He should have known better than to think so lowly of her.

"For the love of the Maker, we need to get you some action, woman!" Isabela hooted, taking the fresh tankard offered by Norah.

"It could do you some good, Hawke," Varric agreed, smiling mischievously over the rim of the glass as he too took another drink.

Aria shrugged. She supposed she should have been aggravated and affronted by this conversation, but her personal life was not something she needed to hide. She simply hadn't done anything that could be considered a grave indiscretion. She had no immoral vices except the love of the drink after hard-won battles. And between Varric's stories and the accounts of people with whom she'd worked over the past couple of years, everyone knew everything about her anyway.

She stole a glance in both Fenris's and Anders's directions and found Fenris looking off into space, his expression softly contemplative. What did he think of the turn of this conversation? Surely he'd had his fair share of conquests. He was not one to brag, but his ethereal appeal was universal. She even believed that Anders might even find the elf attractive, if he didn't harbor such a deep-seated hatred for magic. She knew Isabela had tried her hand at seducing the liberated slave. She didn't know however if the little high-seas temptress had succeeded in that endeavor. She feared she might think less of Fenris if Isabela had. And Anders… He was just too consumed with his ideas of revolution to even want to dally with the pleasures a woman's or man's body had to offer.

"How is that mansion suiting you, Hawke?"

Anders' question snapped her from her thoughts immediately. She turned to him, smiling easily.

"It's a far cry better than Gamlen's, I assure you. I'm not quite certain what to do with all the space. My bed chambers alone are larger than Gamlen's entire home," Aria replied without missing a beat.

"Oh! We need to get you a wardrobe. Or five. And there's this hat shop in Lowtown that is the pirate's beard around here. Honestly, we need to drop some coin there, you and I," Isabela brightly suggested, leaning across the table towards Aria.

"Haven't we shopped enough? I don't much care for high fashion, Isabela," Aria chimed. "It is your influence that I even wore this outfit this evening instead of my armour."

"Bitch. It looks far better on you than it did on me," Isabela laughed, the compliment evident in her smiling face.

"You do look ravishing. Perhaps you should take her advice and let her select a wardrobe more suited to your new title," Varric agreed. "C'mon Hawke. Live a little!"

"It's a pretty outfit," Merrill said, nodding her agreement.

Aria shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I've never been one to—"

Just then a stranger tapped her on the shoulder. He was a guardsman, though he was currently off duty. She wondered if he hadn't been listening in on the entire conversation. His timing was a little too perfect, but she pointedly ignored that fact.

"Serah Hawke, pardon my intrusion but I was just wondering if you would grant me the honor of a dance?"

He was actually quite handsome. Tall, strawberry blond, sturdy of build, honest of face. His eyes were a comely shade of grey that reminded her of a stormy sky—oh she'd had this thought before. He had a smattering of freckles across his nose and his lips were curled in a dashing smile. Grinning, Aria looked to her companions.

"Well, I would be truly cold-hearted to deny such a polite request," Aria said, allowing the guardsman to pull her from her chair and lead her to the small clearing that served as the tavern's dance floor.

Fenris and Anders glared at the pair as they began to dance to the rousing melody played by the musicians. Anders turned to look at Fenris, his expression changing from anger to something akin to camaraderie. Fenris continued to glower, both at the guard and at Anders. He did not like this turn of events one bit. But then, his feelings on the issue didn't matter, did they? She was human, almost a noble, and a worthy warrior. What would she ever see in a lowly elven squatter like himself?

"So, guardsman, what is your name?" Aria asked as he began to lead her around the floor.

"Perrin," he replied. "I am a transfer from the Free Marches."

"What brings you to Kirkwall, Ser Perrin?" she continued, allowing him to spin her back to him, embrace her, then release her again.

"My mother was in Ferelden. She fled the blight here, while I was serving in the army of the Free Marches with my father. So, we came here to start over after having served our tours of duty," Perrin answered, smiling politely.

"A noble pursuit," Aria agreed.

"Serah Hawke, I've heard so much about you from the captain. Is it true that you felled a darkspawn ogre with just a dagger?" Perrin questioned, genuinely interested.

Aria laughed. "Ah, Aveline. At least you heard it from her instead of Varric. She tends to stick closer to the facts."

"So it is true?" Perrin eagerly pressed, spinning her again.

"Well, not exactly. It was two daggers, not one."

Perrin burst out laughing. "A major detail, to be sure."

"You never know—sometimes the tide of the battle can rest on a dagger alone."

"Most wise, Serah Hawke, most wise," he chuckled earnestly.

"Ah, Perrin. Do call me Aria. Obviously we're not strangers anymore and the titles people bestow upon each other rarely do anything to explain the true nature of a person," she said, swaying gently with him.

"Aria, then. What happened in the Deep Roads? Many people had given you up for dead fools when they learned Bartrand was back with no other survivors."

"The Deep Roads," Aria said on a shudder. "It is not a place I would gladly enter again, that's for certain."

"I understand," he softly said. "It was not a battle of glory?"

"Yes, of course it was," she quickly replied, "It was just that I did not care much for it at all. You're under the earth and it's not very stable. Give me the sky over my head any day, not the entire country."

Perrin laughed again, throwing his head back a bit, his grey eyes lightening. Aria found his laughter pleasant, as well as the ease with which he expressed his mirth. Then again, she was about five pints in—Maker help her. "I never thought of it that way. Bloody hell, I understand," he said, pulling her a little closer.

Just then, someone tapped the guard on the hip. Aria was pleasantly shocked to see Varric standing there. The dwarf looked up at the guard, a glib smile on his lips.

"Excuse me, Ser Perrin, but I must humbly request that I take the next dance with Serah Hawke, if you please," Varric silver-tongued, his eyes hinting a hidden motive to Aria.

"Of course, Ser dwarf," Perrin replied, handing Hawke over to the rogue. "Perhaps we shall speak again later, Aria," the guard said with a bow.

"Perhaps," Aria chimed, turning to look at Varric. "What are you up to?" she asked as soon as Perrin was out of earshot.

Varric chuckled. "Me?" he asked, feigning hurt at her accusation.

Aria glowered down at him, allowing him to turn her so that they were facing away from their companions' table. "I know that look all too well, Varric."

He sighed. "Ah, Hawke. So many people seeking your attention, and yet you're oblivious."

She groaned. "I'm not oblivious. It's quite taxing and I don't know what to make of it most of the time."

"Well, make of it what you will, but I'm going to offer you an inside look at the situation," Varric kindly offered. "Aveline was just in the doorway."

"Aveline?" Aria exclaimed. "She said she had a night patrol this evening. It's perfectly plausible—"

"Don't rationalize. Just listen. Perrin was a decoy. She's trying to set you up with someone more…suitable," Varric murmured, trying to keep his voice low enough that no one else would hear.

"Oh really? More suitable? What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"C'mon, Aria," he chuckled, using her first name and alerting her to the gravity of the situation, "We all know the triangle between the vengeful mage, the Tevinter elf, and the rising star."

Aria groaned again. "Well, I can manage my own love life, thank you very much."

They swayed with the sweet melody in comfortable silence for a few moments, pointedly ignoring their friends. Aria mulled over the idea that Aveline was starting to meddle. She had to laugh. Aveline. Helping her in the romance department. That was almost as good as Isabela trying to aid a cleric with studies of Andraste.

"She's just trying to help you, I think. At least she has good taste," Varric said as Aria laughed.

"Though I appreciate the gesture, I think I'm quite capable of handling my own affairs."

"Are you? Because you seem to be trying awfully hard to convince yourself," he laughingly challenged.

She sighed and bowed her head. "Maker help me."

"I don't think even he would like to be in your boots right now."

"Varric, you speak with everyone. You know people's intentions and you are a good judge of character. What would you do?"

"Oh no. You're not getting off that easy, Hawke. No one can decide but you. Ask yourself though, what could you live with?"

"What do you mean?" Aria asked, puzzled.

They turned again and she allowed Varric to spin her, awkward as it was dancing with a dwarf. She was tall for a human woman. She noticed then that Anders was leaving the tavern. He cast a longing, hurt look her way before disappearing into the darkness beyond the tavern's open door.

Varric also witnessed the mage's exit. "If Blondie had his way, the Chantry would be crushed. And with Vengeance, not just Justice dwelling within him, I don't know if he could control himself should the need arise. He's a loose cannon."

"That worries me more than you know," Aria allowed, feeling Fenris's gaze upon her.

"If the elf had his way, mages would fare no better in Kirkwall than they would if Knight Commander Meredith was let off her leash. How would he treat Bethany?" Varric elaborated for her.

"He likes Bethany," Aria defended.

"That he does. But do you think you could change his stance when it comes to all mages? His hatred runs a lot deeper than those scars."

"He's already started to. Varric, he's different when he's with me."

"He's very fond of you," Varric agreed. "But so is Blondie."

They were silent again for a moment as they danced, each considering what the other had said. Aria tried to come up with a way to create a metaphor that Varric could relate to. At last, it formed in her mind and she let it loose from her lips.

"Let us say for a moment that you found another crossbow—"

"Blasphemy!" Varric interrupted, playfully scowling at her.

"Just shush a moment and listen," Aria countered, laughter bubbling her tone. "I've granted you the right to say your piece, now let me share mine."

"I'm listening," the dwarf grudgingly conceded.

"You find another crossbow, comparable to Bianca, with just as much awe inspiring beauty and lethality."

"Never going to happen, but continue," he chuckled.

Aria smiled. "And that crossbow needed you, like Bianca needs you. Her need was so great that it just…beat at you every moment of every day. You knew that you had the power to turn her into something absolutely amazing. What would you do?"

"I see the point you're trying to make, Hawke, but it just doesn't carry the right weight with me," he earnestly replied, the song ending.

"Then you understand?"

"I understand. Just—be careful. It would crush more than just my heart if you came to harm. How could I write a compelling tale if the hero is destroyed before she even has a chance to do some real good?"

Aria laughed, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder as they walked back to the table. "Why, Varric! That's the stuff of which legends are made!"

"I'll give you that, Hawke. I'll give you that," Varric chuckled, snatching two fresh pints from the table and handing one to her. "To legends!"

"To legends!" Aria chimed, clinking the rim of her stein against his and then draining the entire thing with him.

She wiped the foam from her lips and looked around the tavern, then set the empty vessel on the table. Isabela smiled warmly. Merrill was reading something carved into the table. Fenris leaned forward intently, as if he had been eavesdropping on the entire conversation. Aria did not doubt for a second that his keen elven ears had heard enough.

"I think it is time I retired. I fear the headache that's sure to come in the morning if I don't quit now while I'm ahead," Aria addressed them all.

"Awww, but when is it my turn to dance?" Isabela pouted, a devilish glint to her eyes. She looked to Fenris. "Care to—"

"Not tonight. I think I'm going to retire as well," Fenris curtly replied, finishing his own drink and gracefully rising to his feet.

"I'll dance with you!" Merrill chimed, her eyes eager and her cheeks flushed with the presence of alcohol.

Isabela grinned widely and took the elven mage's hand. "You all go ahead then. We'll have fun without you."

Varric shook his head as they watched the pirate and the pariah ascend the stairs to the tavern's private rooms. "And the dwarf drinks alone."

"Get some rest, Varric. You'll need it to concoct some more of your wild tales," Aria kindly stated, resting her hand on his shoulder.

"Or to stave off whatever cretins you pit us against tomorrow," he teased, resting his hand over hers. "Good night, Aria."

She smiled and turned to walk to the door. Fenris waited for her there. As she reached him, he congenially offered her his arm.

"We are going in the same direction and these streets are fraught with brigands and slavers at night," he said as she accepted his arm. The pretense was unnecessary, but if it made him feel better, she simply played along.

"Thank you, Fenris," she murmured, carefully avoiding his gaze. She realized again that for an elf, he was quite tall. It was rare that someone looked over her head.

"You're most welcome, my lady," he softly replied, opening the door for her.

They walked in silence for a few moments, each looking up at the stars. The moon was not visible in this part of town, but its light was great enough to illuminate the streets before them with its wan, silvery glow. A warm wind wafted the perfume of wild flowers from Lady Elegant's potion stand as they walked past and ascended the stairs towards High Town.

"It is odd to see a dwarf dance so easily with a human," he said at length, a slight chuckle lacing his tone.

Aria smiled and leaned a little closer to him as she steadied herself in their climb. "Varric is comfortable with himself."

"Yes, he certainly is," Fenris replied, his free hand resting on her arm to aid her.

"Have you seen many dwarves in your travels?" she asked, smiling up at him and allowing herself to look into his eyes as they walked.

They stopped walking and he stared down into her eyes for a moment before replying. "I have seen a few, yes. None so slick and cocksure as Varric, to be certain. But he has a good heart and a knack for storytelling."

"That he does," she agreed, allowing him to lead their walking again. She stumbled a little and began laughing. "I'm so sorry. I think I had a few too many."

Fenris chuckled. "You're always so quick to apologize. Why is that?"

"I honestly don't know. I just—hate being a bother to anyone."

"You're no bother, Aria," he quietly stated, steadying her again.

"I'm quick to apologize and you're quick to dismiss my…transgressions. Why is that?"

"They aren't transgressions. Though you are an extraordinary person, there is no reason for you to apologize for being normal," he murmured, holding her closer as they alighted the top step leading to Hightown.

"Normal," she snorted. "I don't think there is such a thing."

He chuckled warmly and steadied her again as they turned towards the estates. "No, but there are—parameters."

She laughed bitterly. "Parameters are measures for control. I don't much care to be among the controlled."

"Nor do I, my lady," he agreed, his tone just as bitter.

"You more than almost everyone I know," she said, stumbling again and almost dragging the both of them down as she almost fell.

"Varric said something about Aveline meddling as a means to thank you," he said as they righted themselves.

"Ah that. I knew you were listening," Aria softly stated, focusing hard on the gateway before them to steady her whirling senses. "What all did you hear?"

"Everything you said, everything the guard said, everything Varric said," he replied, his voice deepening.

"Fenris—"

"I know my stance on mages is a deterrent to you. I know my place in this world and I won't try to upset that balance for my own selfish reasons," he somberly interjected.

"Your stance on mages is understandable and expected. I'd be the same in your shoes," Aria countered. "And what do you mean about your place in this world?"

"Look at me, Aria. I'm an elven fugitive. I've already upset the balance by refusing my place," he replied, stopping and turning her to face him fully.

"Now you sound like the Arishok. Would you go back?" she quietly asked.

"Never," he bitterly spat.

"Then that was not your place, Fenris. Your place is here. Now. Doing whatever it is you desire to do. That is your place. Not what someone else decides," Aria passionately defended.

He hooked her arm again and they resumed walking, her estate door in view. "It heartens me that you say that."

"Mmm. It does?" she asked, swaying a little on her feet. "Oh Maker. I need to go to bed."

"It does. Is Bodahn in to help you to bed?" he asked, stopping again and once more steadying her, his arm around her waist.

"Probably, but don't wake him. I'll just…crash on the sitting room sofa," she drunkenly replied, the full effects of the alcohol slamming into her. "You know, I could say anything I want right now and it wouldn't matter."

He quietly laughed, his voice a deep rumble in his throat. "You say what you want regardless, Aria."

"Not always," she giggled, sitting down on the ledge of a flowerbed. She was too dizzy at the moment to continue. "If I did, there would be a war. Or at least a good fight or two."

"I'm never opposed to a good fight," he chuckled, sitting next to her.

"Oh, I think you would be to this one."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I can't really say," she hedged, still possessing enough sense not to remove her thoughts' filter completely.

"Then tell me one thing," he gently pressed, leaning back against the tree that stood in the center of the enormous flowerbed and tilting his head sideways to look at her. "When Varric was talking about Anders and me, was he warning you to not get involved with either one of us?"

She mulled it over for quite a long time. She looked up at the stars once more, trying to collect her thoughts well enough that what she had to say would be coherent enough for him to understand.

"Yes and no. He just wants me to make a choice that I can live with."

"Aria, I'm not going to warn you away from me. And I will say that it's really no secret that I find you…irresistible," he said slowly.

"I have a feeling there's a 'but' coming on," she groaned, leaning back and falling off the flowerbed ledge into a bush.

Fenris laughed heartily, an odd sound coming from him, and pulled her back up into a sitting position. "Perhaps, but let's not dwell on it tonight. It's enough to know that I am at least winning your favor."

"At least," she grunted as he hauled her to her feet. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Aria, you are drunk. I highly doubt you'll even remember this conversation when you wake," he hedged her query.

"I'm not _that_ drunk," she said, burping. "Ugh. I'm so sorry."

"And yet you prove my point," he chuckled.

"I tell you what—tell me something now that you don't think I will remember, and ask it of me tomorrow," she grunted, rising unsteadily to her feet.

"I'm not willing to make such a gamble," he softly replied, also getting to his feet.

"You're no fun," Aria grumbled, stumbling towards her door, which was still at least fifty yards away.

He trotted to her side and took up her arm again, leading her closer to her door once more. "I am fun in my own right," he defended. "I'll strike you a bargain. You tell me something and I'll tell you something. If you don't remember, I'll forget it. If you do remember, well… We will just have to go from there."

"A bargain. Hmm. What would I only tell you if I was drunk?" she giggled, swaying against him.

He caught her and held her to him, looking down into her eyes. He smoothed her flyaways away from her face and she smiled at him. Her tawny eyes shimmered in the moonlight, her silvery hair dazzling.

"Actually, I think you should go first," she murmured, lost in his eyes. The warmth and dizzying effects of the alcohol heightened the feelings she had for him, feelings she really couldn't express. Feelings that so many would hate her for having, that few would forgive her for.

"Alright," he softly conceded. "I don't think I deserve to be here, holding you like this, especially in your current state."

Aria giggled quietly. "Alright then, I think you're wrong. And I think there's no one else I'd rather have here, holding me like this, in any state."

Laughter bubbled in his throat again and she catalogued it in her mind as her new favorite sound. "Now we'll see if you remember saying that, tomorrow."

"I'll remember," she gently replied, touching the side of his face with her hand.

He covered her hand with his. "I think that I hope you do."

"I will," Aria whispered.

"Let's get you inside," he also whispered, leading her once more toward her house.

They stopped outside the front door. Aria covered his hand as he reached for the door handle. Fenris looked back at her, his silvery hair sliding over one of his eyes, his gaze questioning. She traced one of the lyrium brands on his chin with her forefinger, marveling at the beauty of it.

"Will you—be ok?" he asked after a moment had passed.

"I'll be fine," she replied, casting her gaze downward.

He caught her chin in his hand, drawing her face back up. "Aria…"

"Yes?" she airily asked, her eyes darting to his lips then back to his eyes.

"Good night," he murmured, releasing her chin and opening the door for her.

"Good night, Fenris," she replied, looking down and entering the doorway, not wanting him to see the bitter disappointment that washed over her. He closed it for her, keeping his gaze downcast.

Aria threw the bolts to lock the door, then stumbled over to her arm chair by the fire in the great hall. Sandal's snores reached her ears, but it was the only sound in the mansion. She stared at the dying flames for a good long while, trying to make sense of everything that had happened in the past few months alone.

Sighing, she wobbled over to the stash of firewood by the hearth and threw a few good-sized logs in. She grabbed a large bottle of spirits that Aveline had gifted her from the shelf next to the hearth and sat back down. She used her dagger to uncork it and took a giant, appreciative swig. It burned all the way down her throat, stinging so much that tears ran down her cheeks. Those tears opened the flood gates for more.

She couldn't contain it all anymore. Taking another long, hearty draught from the bottle, she allowed herself to weep. She wept for Carver, her brother who had not even begun to live as a man. She wept for Bethany, who was now in the clutches of the two warring powerhouses in Kirkwall. She wept for mother, who had lost so much in her life and still remained strong and thankful. She wept for Varric, whose own brother had left him for dead. She wept for Merrill, the poor Dalish who just couldn't understand the danger she faced with her preoccupation with history and demons. She wept for Anders, as she watched Justice slowly erode away the man he'd once been. But lastly, she wept for herself and for Fenris.

Aria was so tired. Bartrand's betrayal had stunned her. The expedition into the Deep Roads had left her weary, footsore, and emotionally drained. Coming home and losing her sister to the Circle had been a knife twisted straight to her heart. She should have taken her into the Deep Roads. Then Bethany might still be free of the Circle.

But the biggest contributing factor to this breakdown was Fenris. She wanted him so much, like nothing and no one she'd ever wanted before. Her heart shattered with the depth of her feelings for him. His eyes haunted her. His plight beat at her. She could see the good in him, see what he could become if only he'd just let go of some of that hatred. She wept for the pain he had endured, for the life that he had known before. She fought to make him see how much he had to offer, if he'd just allow himself. Though he rarely spoke of anything but his hatred for magic, she knew he was seeing the good sides to it, as modeled by her sister. She knew that he could be one of the greatest people to ever walk the face of this planet.

Aria dropped the empty bottle when she heard footsteps on the stairs. It rattled along the stone floor, deafening in the comparative silence of the mansion. It stopped with a loud, dull "thunk" when it hit the leg of her writing desk. The feeble light of dawn filtered through the windows upstairs. She drunkenly lifted her head to see her mother alighting the bottom step of the stair case, her robe tucked snugly around her, her eyes filled with worry. Leandra saw the look on her daughter's face and she trotted hastily over, tears springing to her own eyes.

"Mama, I'm so sorry," Aria sobbed against her shoulder as the matriarch enveloped her in her arms.

Leandra smoothed her daughter's hair and held her. "My child, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm so proud of you."

"I just…I can't…" Aria sobbed brokenly, unable to put all the thoughts and emotions into any semblance of words.

"Shhh, Aria. Let's get you to bed, hmm? Everything will look much rosier in the morning," Leandra gently said, helping tug her drunk and weary child to her feet.

Aria sniffled and looked up at the great windows above them as they climbed the stairs. "It is morning."

Leandra smiled and pointed to the glow of the dawn on the walls opposite the windows. "And see? Much rosier already."

Aria laughed and sniffled again, swiping drunkenly at her eyes and snotty nose with her free arm. "Yes. Yes it is."

"Come on child, let's get you to bed. You've been running so hard for so long, you don't know whether you're going or coming anymore," the matriarch kindly murmured, helping Aria through the threshold of her room.

Leandra fetched her nightgown while Aria undressed, handing it to her as soon as she was ready. They sat at the foot of the bed, Leandra pulling the pins from Aria's hair. She grabbed the brush off the nightstand and combed through the few snarls in her daughter's long, silvery tresses. After a few moments, she pulled back the blankets for her devastated child and tucked her in, as though she was just a little girl again.

"Mama?" Aria sleepily asked as her mother strode slowly towards the door.

"Yes?"

"When you left with Papa, were you worried about what everyone else thought of you?"

Leandra turned and came back into the room, sitting on the side of the bed and tucking one of Aria's stray locks behind her ear. "At first. But I loved him, and he loved me. I wouldn't trade any of it away for a different story. Why do you ask?"

"I'm too drunk to remember this I think, but—Mama, I'm in love."

Leandra smiled. "With that dashing, brooding, magic-hating elf?" she said, her voice trembling with laughter.

Aria groaned. "He's not as bad as everyone thinks. You just have to work a little harder to get to his core. He's good at his core, Mama. I can see it."

"Birdie," she said, using her daughter's shortened childhood pet name, "If you love him, that's all that matters. What other people think does not. You have to live with your choices, not them." She bent and kissed her child on the forehead. "Sleep now. No more tears are necessary. I'm so proud of you and grateful for you. And most of all, I love you."

"I love you, Mama," she sleepily replied, losing the battle with her heavy eyelids.

Leandra watched her daughter sleep for a few moments, marveling at the changes that had come to her face over the past few years. She was no longer a child. She was a hardened, noble, and strong young woman. She was well-loved and well-hated. Leandra allowed a few tears to fall down her own cheeks. She really was so very proud of her little girl. Birdie had worked so hard and given their family so much. Smiling, she adjusted the blankets over Aria's sleeping shoulders and retreated to her own chambers across the hall.


	22. Chapter TWENTY-ONE

**Chapter 21**

_A/N: Because three years is a long time to wait, I'm adjusting the time tables. How could Hawke and Fenris go 3 YEARS not talking much to each other when they're obviously enamored with one another? Didn't make sense to me, and since this is fan fiction, I reserve the right to make it make sense. ;) Anyway, enjoy the telling. Much more Fenris involvement to come!_

Aria was actually nervous. She hadn't been to talk to Fenris since that night a week ago when he walked her drunk ass home. She'd been kept busy enough by Aveline and Varric to justify avoiding the elf, but she knew it was a foolish endeavor. Her mother looked at her as though she were a wounded animal and Leandra encouraged Aria to go out when it was known that everyone was at the Hanged Man. Aria had refused and instead stayed home reading. Sober.

But this morning, Aria wanted to get some things off her chest. Add to that the fact that the other night, whilst coming home from checking up on Merrill, she'd found a book she knewmight be of interest to Fenris. It was entitled "A Slave's Life", penned by a man named Shartan. Aria knew her lore well enough that Shartan helped Andraste free the slaves. She could use it as an apology for avoiding him as she had.

The sun had just cleared the spires of the Chantry when she emerged from her mansion. Aria had been forced into dressing as the Hightown ladies did at her mother's insistence. She couldn't deny that her mother at least had good taste and knew her daughter's preferences when it came to haute couture. Today, however, Aria donned the dress Fenris had given her for her birthday, which felt like it had been decades ago. The dress was a little tight in the bosom, but Aria guessed that it was designed to be that way. She padded across the square before the Viscount's Keep, then over to the row of estates where Fenris stayed.

As she entered the mansion, she heard Isabela's voice upstairs and she stopped cold to listen intently. While she liked the other rogue, she didn't like how openly she came on to whatever man or woman currently struck her fancy. And, in Aria's eyes, Fenris was hers. She could at least admit that to herself now.

"So the Seneschal's tax collector won't be coming around again, like you asked. Funny story," Isabela's voice echoed down the stairs from Fenris's chambers.

"I'll pass, but thank you for the help," Fenris politely shut her down. Emboldened by Fenris's continued indifference to the pirate, Aria smirked to herself at this and swiftly climbed the stairs towards their voices.

"Spoilsport," Isabela silkily retorted. "Why you want to squat up here in Hightown is beyond me."

"I like the view," Fenris said with a shrug.

"So do I," Isabela said, saucily rolling her shoulder and giving him her trademark vixen, smoldering stare.

Aria made her entrance then, shaking her head when Isabela winked at her in passing. Aria watched the pirate bound down the steps and out of sight before turning to Fenris.

"Nearly a year and no sign of Danarius. I'm beginning to wonder if he's finally given up," Fenris said as she took the chair Isabela had vacated.

"This is his mansion, isn't it? He must know you're here," Aria replied, resting her hands on the desk in front of her.

Fenris looked at her as though he'd just seen her for the first time. His eyes traveled from her hair to feet and a strange light took to them. He cleared his throat before he spoke again, adjusting himself in his chair.

"Would you be surprised to learn that it isn't in fact his mansion?" he asked, letting that little bit of trivia sink in for a moment. "It belongs to a Tevinter merchant, one who has evidently given up on the place. Perhaps he is dead. Perhaps," his tone went darker here, "Danarius killed him. Either way, if Danarius is aware of my presence, he has done nothing."

Aria was silent a moment, pondering this information. She finally looked up and asked, "Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Yes, but..." Fenris replied, then followed a different train of thought. "Tell me, what do you do when you stop running?"

"You build anew. At least, it's what I've done. Though I doubt I'll ever truly be done running," Aria responded to his query.

"There is truly no end in sight?" Fenris gently challenged.

"When I see one, I'll let you know," Aria bitterly chuckled.

"Even so, I don't know how to just...rebuild. My first memory was receiving these markings. The lyrium being branded into my flesh. The agony wiped away everything. Whatever life I had before I became a slave... It's lost." He paused at this, then stood and turned away from her. "I shouldn't trouble you with this." He turned to face her and the pain in his eyes was nearly more than she could bear. "My troubles are not yours."

"You don't know who you were?" Aria asked, intrigued and saddened at this new information. Fenris had never divulged in depth what had happened to him before they met. It was always glossed over, something he was never willing to talk about.

"Fenris was the name Danarius bestowed upon me. His... 'little wolf'. If I once had another name, or a family, then they were taken from me. But...again. This is not your concern."

Aria stood then and took his face in her hands. "I'd like to make it my concern."

They stood in silence, reading each others' eyes. Fenris slid his hands to her waist and drew her closer.

"You're a beautiful woman, Aria. Is there...no one else who has your...attention?" he huskily asked, the reference to Anders not lost on her.

"Do you see anyone else here?" Aria softly challenged, her hands sliding down his neck to rest on his chest.

He gently took her hands in his and backed away, though he didn't let go. "I am an escaped slave and an _elf_," he bitterly said, looking away for a moment. His gaze returned to hers, green fire of self-loathing. "I live in a borrowed mansion. None of those things bother you?"

"And I'm a refugee and a known killer. Does that bother you?"

"You have me there," he conceded, drawing her back to him. "This all is...new ground for me, Aria. I'll have to consider it," he whispered, sighing when her hand touched his face again.

Aria smiled at this, then remembered the book in her satchel. "Well, whilst you consider, I have something for you." She went back to the chair where her satchel rested on the floor and pulled out the book. She handed it to him, smiling even wider.

He took it and seemed completely dumbfounded. "It...it's a book.."

Aria opened it to the first page so the he could look at the title and author. "It's a subject you're familiar with. It's by Shartan, the elf who helped Andraste free the slaves. You know about him, right?"

"A little," Fenris said, his words halting. He was uncomfortable, clearly, and Aria was already preparing to fix whatever she'd done to make him so. "It's just... Slaves are not permitted to read. I've...never learned."

Aria beamed at him, seeing her way to make it right. "It's never too late to learn."

"Isn't it?" he asked almost bitterly. "Sometimes I wonder. I don't want to seem ungrateful. I do appreciate the thought. I've always wanted to learn more of Shartan; perhaps this is my chance," he said with a smile.

Aria bounced up and down on her toes. "When shall we start?"

"I haven't anything planned today," he said, smiling at her and taking her hand. He brought it to his lips and placed a searing, sweet kiss across her knuckles. "Let me put some things away, and I'll join you shortly at your home."

"I will see you there," Aria said, feeling her cheeks flush. He escorted her to the door and embraced her before she departed.

Aria felt as though she was walking on air the whole way back to her own estate. She fought the urge to skip and jump like an impish school girl and actually returned the greetings the Hightown ladies paid her as she walked past. One commented that she seemed in a fine mood for once. Had she really been that gloomy?

As soon as she stepped inside, her mother greeted her. The woman wore a fine day gown of pale spring green and her lavish white fur cape.

"Going out?" Aria asked her, kissing both of her cheeks in greeting.

"I've been invited to tea," Leandra replied, her eyes girlish. "Will you join me?"

Aria smiled. "I must decline. Fenris will be stopping by for reading lessons."

"Reading lessons? I figured with as intelligent as he is..." Leandra mused, but Aria cut her off.

"He was a slave, Mama. They aren't allowed to learn to read."

"Of course, child," she said, cupping her daughter's face. "Do enjoy yourself, hmm?"

"I will try," Aria chuckled, not missing the innuendo implied by the wink her mother gave her.

Leandra left then and Aria went upstairs to her study to ready for Fenris's visit. She gathered some blank parchment, an empty leatherbound journal, some quills, and a few pots of ink. She also went back out to the library to peruse her selection for something suitable for Fenris to learn.

A few moments later, Bodahn called from downstairs. "Ah, Mistress Hawke? There's an elven gentleman here to see you."

Aria bounded down the steps and met Fenris in the common room. He took both of her hands as she offered them, and smiled tentatively.

"Don't worry," she said, reading his self-doubt in his eyes. "We all had to start somewhere."

Aria led him up the stairs, hand in hand, to her study, pleased that he'd brought Shartan with him. He looked at the statue over the mantle and couldn't quell the shudder that went through him.

"What?" she asked, following his gaze.

"They have statues much like that in Tevinter. Old god relics," he replied with distaste.

"Ah that. It's mother's. She dragged it out of the basement—or rather, she had Bodahn drag it out of the basement. Apparently Grandfather was fond of them."

"Strange thing to be fond of," Fenris quipped, a hint of laughter in his tone.

"We all have our quirks, I suppose," she nervously laughed, leading him to the writing table. They sat facing each other and Fenris put the book down, opened to the first page. "I have other works, that would be easier to start with, if it please you."

Fenris smiled wryly. "I appreciate the thought, but I rather like the idea of starting to learn from Shartan, if it isn't too much trouble?"

It wasn't like Fenris to back down from a challenge, and he was true to form here. He was humbled at present, feeling quite at the disadvantage. He hated to appear weak to Aria, but at the same time, this was an opportunity to get to know her on a new level. Instead of comrade, instead of warrior-at-arms, she was stepping into the role of teacher. He could think of no one else he'd rather learn from, and his greatest desire at this moment was to prove an apt pupil.

"Before we start reading, we need to learn the alphabet. These symbols each have their own sounds and together, they form the words we see and speak," Aria began then, smiling and gently closing the book.

"I understand," Fenris said with a nod, watching as her fingers deftly snatched a piece of parchment and a quill.

Aria dipped the quill in the ink and scrawled the first symbol, a letter "A". And thus, their first lesson began. They spent the rest of the morning learning the letters and their sounds, Fenris proving to be a very quick study indeed. Bodahn interrupted them with lunch, which they consumed together in the common room.

Fenris finished eating before Aria and went to the table where Bodahn kept letters addressed to her. He looked at them all, then grabbed one and brought it over to where she sat.

"This—this is your name?" he asked, pointing to the greeting at the top of the letter.

"These four letters here," Aria replied, noting each one in turn.

"A-R-I-A. Ah-rrr-iii-ah. But, the letter 'I' doesn't make the sound 'eee'," Fenris stated, puzzled.

"Some of the letters make different sounds, depending on how they're placed. That's a lesson for another day, I think," Aria giggled, taking the letter. It was one from Bethany.

Fenris sounded out the scrawled name at the end of the letter from where it rested now in Aria's grasp. "Bet-han-why... Oh! Bethany!" He turned to her, slightly confused, but then he smiled. "I guess the Hawke family defies every rule they come across, even with their names."

Aria burst out laughing at this and stood to hug him. "You'll be even further confused by how Hawke is spelled."

"How is Hawke spelled?" he asked, truly curious, his head tilting slightly to the side.

Aria broke their embrace to lead him back upstairs to the study. Sandal cleared their dishes and Bodahn winked at Aria when she reached the top of the stairs. Maker have mercy, she hoped he didn't talk to Varric often. But then, she thought, let them talk. She didn't need to hide anymore. All her secrets were in the open. She suddenly didn't care who knew about Fenris being here, and she didn't care what they said about her as a result.

Fenris sat immediately back down at the desk and grabbed his quill. He dipped it in the ink and let it hover over the paper. "Huh—awww-but there's no letter for that sound," he said, scribbling out the H he'd written. He looked expectantly at Aria.

She strode easily over, and guided his hand in making the H, then the A, and stopped at the E. Fenris puzzled over this a moment then looked at her. "You make absolutely no sense."

Aria laughed again and took her seat across from him. "When you combine some letters, their sound loses its individual pronunciation and a new sound is formed. A and W produce the sound 'awww'," she explained. "The 'E' is silent. I couldn't tell you why myself."

"Does my name defy grammar?" Fenris jokingly asked her, but before she could respond, he started writing it out for himself. "Fff-eh-nnn-rrr-iii-sss." He handed her the parchment and she smiled broadly. "Is that right?" he asked when she was quiet, looking at his handwriting for too long. For someone who had never written his own name before, his handwriting was beautifully precise.

"Spell it out loud for me," Aria gently commanded, pointing to each letter as he said it.

"F-E-N-R-I-S," he said, then smiled.

"That's you," Aria laughed.

"I have a written name," he said in awe, then wrote it again for good measure, and again. "I can sign for things now. I can..." He looked up at her then, the light in his vibrant green eyes new to her. It amazed her that he could express so much with just his eyes. "Thank you, Aria."

She didn't know why, but her own eyes began to mist and she could only smile in response, taking his hand in hers and squeezing.

"Have I offended you?" he suddenly asked, abruptly coming to her side. He knelt next to her and cupped her face.

Aria shook her head vehemently. "No, I'm just... Proud, I guess," she managed, looking deeply into his eyes.

"Proud?" Fenris quietly questioned, his thumb gently stroking her cheek bone as he still held her face.

"Yes. Proud. Of you," Aria answered, her own hand going to his face, smoothing his cheek with a soft touch.

"You're...proud of me?" he asked, his voice quieter still, but deeper. Huskier.

"Yes, Fenris. I'm proud of you," she whispered.

"Do you remember... What we talked about after Varric's homecoming party?" Fenris asked then, a hint of pain stinging his words.

Aria blushed but she kept her eyes on his. "I think there's no one else I'd rather have here, holding me like this, in any state."

Fenris's breath caught in his throat. She'd said the words verbatim. Maker, he'd believed she had in fact forgotten, that's why she hadn't come to see him, why she'd been avoiding him. He thought it had been involuntary, but knowing that she remembered, it sent him drowning in a tidal wave of emotion he'd never felt before.

He was bursting at the seams with joy that she remembered those words, words that had hit him straight in the chest and kept him buoyant for days following. He was angry that she had denied him her company for so long after that admission. He was flying now, because here she was, completely coherent, her wits about her 100% and saying the same thing. She meant it. And she'd said she was proud. Proud... Of him. Her pride didn't come from what she'd done to him, what she'd inflicted on him, from keeping him down. Her pride in him came from lifting him up, challenging him to challenge himself.

"Did I say the wrong thing?" Aria shakily asked when he finally drew in a deep breath.

If ever there was a right time and a right place, Fenris knew this was it. He took both her hands and rested them on his shoulders, then cupped her face once more in his hands.

Aria saw stars for a moment behind her closed eyelids then it registered that his mouth was on hers, rough at first, then gentler, engaging hers in the most beautiful, erotic dance. Her lips responded hungrily. Her heart hammered against her sternum so hard she thought she'd surely die. If this was death, she'd gladly succumb to it.

He pulled away abruptly then and she struggled to lift her heavy eyelids. He'd just sent her to another plane of existence with one kiss. A kiss that had taken far too long to occur, but she was happy they'd waited. No one had ever kissed her like that and she was sure that had she been standing, he'd have had to hold her up. Aria couldn't bring herself to look away from his eyes. Hungry, aching, consumed by the same fire that roared within her.

"Maker, help me," he breathed, caressing her face. He touched his lips to hers again, this time enveloping her in his embrace, his hands finding her hair, his fingers buried in the silvery tresses.

Aria didn't want this to stop. Ever. He was warmth, passion, beauty, wit, and goodness all rolled into one hell of an attractive package. She didn't care that he was an elf, that he had no title, that he had nothing but himself. When she looked at him, she saw who he was on the inside, not what bounds society had placed on them both.

She whimpered softly when his tongue slid over her bottom lip and touched her own. Aria arched her body against his and drank of his mouth deeply, equally giving of herself to him. She didn't know how long they fell together in this state of absolute bliss, but when he pulled away, she felt as though she'd just emerged from a deep, beautiful, dreamless sleep.

"So... I take it you're done considering?" she playfully asked, kissing the tip of his nose.

Fenris smiled. "I'll take any trouble you want to give me."

"Likewise," Aria whispered in kind.

"I've been kissed before, but never like that," he blurted, nuzzling her neck. "Was it as earth-shattering an experience for you?"

Aria airily laughed at this, her fingers going through his hair while his breath and lips feathered the sinew of her neck. "Earth-shattering is an understatement, I think."

He chuckled warmly and stood then, returning to his seat across from her. "Shall we continue with the lessons?"

Aria pressed her palm to her forehead and took a few deep breaths. "If you wish."

"Yes. I do wish. And perhaps, when I spell or read something correctly, you could reward me with a kiss?"

"You have yourself a deal, messere," Aria laughed.


	23. Chapter TWENTY-TWO

**Chapter 22**

Aria had learned to dread it when Aveline called on her at home. Today was no different. The carrot-topped Guard-Captain had come to her as a messenger for the Viscount, who wanted her to report to his office as soon as she was able.

She quickly put on her light armor and strapped her daggers to her back after Aveline left. Bodahn questioned her attire and wished her well should she see battle. Truth be told, it'd been far too long since Aria had worn the garb. It had actually gotten looser on her, a testament to how much she'd let stress and anxiety rule her.

Aria was just stepping off her door step when Fenris greeted her. "We're going to have to put lessons on hold today," she groused as he strode up, his questioning gaze immediately taking in her battle-ready accoutrements.

He sighed. "May I deposit these inside and join you?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to need your help," Aria replied sadly.

Fenris smiled at this and went inside, where Bodahn was quick to take his things. He even gave the elf an enormous, lethal great sword from Aria's collection to take with them. Together, they strode purposefully up to the Keep.

"What's happened?" Fenris asked as they lightly bounded up the steps together.

"I don't know the details quite yet, but Aveline informed me that Viscount Dumar has summoned me," Aria answered, smiling shyly when Fenris's hand caught hers at the top step.

They walked through the enormous double doors of the Keep and quickly made their way to the Viscount's personal office. Aria didn't let go of his hand until they reached the seneschal. He escorted just her inside, refusing to acknowledge Fenris at all. Seneschal Bran regarded her with a look of haughty, deep-loathing when the doors closed after them.

"Problem?" Aria snipped at him, challenging him to say something about the elf.

"None at all, messere," Bran sniveled, though his eyes spoke the opposite.

The Viscount handed Aria a letter he'd received just this morning. The Arishok had asked for her by name, refusing to allow any other human into the Qunari compound until she complied. The Viscount was deeply distressed at this turn of events, and he feared all out war was imminent.

She grumbled to herself as she left the office. "All I want to do is live in peace. But no, Hawke, go rescue mages. Hawke, go die in the Deep Roads. Hawke, help me with this little problem. Hawke, go talk to the scary Qunari because he's a dick to everyone else. Can't I just get fat and live off my spoils? Is it too much to ask? Sweet Andraste, this city will be the death of me." She threw her hands up in the air, then kicked the door jamb for good measure as she went through. The seneschal glared at her, but wisely said nothing.

When she reached the landing, she was not surprised in the least that Aveline had joined Fenris to wait for her.

"Well?" the Guard-Captain immediately prompted when Aria reached them. "Out with it."

Aria glared at the chevalier-want-to-be, her amber eyes spitting sparks. "Is everyone done ordering me around today? Since when did I become everyone's go-to for their rotten dirty work?"

Aveline grinned and slapped the rogue on the shoulder. "Since you stepped off the damn boat. No one can do the things you do, and get away with them. What did the Viscount want?"

Aria looked to Fenris who curiously arched a brow at her. She sighed. "We can't talk about it here. Your office?"

"Indeed," Aveline said, immediately turning on her heel.

Fenris's hand rested at the small of Aria's back as they entered the office, a gesture of support. Aveline regarded the action with a curious gaze.

"You would do well to be a little less—open," Aveline addressed Aria and Fenris.

"Piss on it," Aria spat, but Fenris took a couple steps away from her. Aria smiled sadly at him then rounded on the Guard-Captain. "The Arishok asked for me by name and refuses to deal with anyone else."

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose in trepidation and squeezed her eyes shut, a deep, worrisome sigh whistling out between her lips. "Maker, this is bad."

"You're telling me," Aria groused, taking a seat in the chair at Aveline's desk. Aveline sat in her own and motioned Fenris to sit in the other vacant chair next to Aria.

"Did he give any inclination as to what he wants you for?" Aveline queried.

"The Arishok is never very forthcoming about his motives. Hence why he's still even in this blighted city," Aria grumbled.

"Something binds him here," Fenris contemplatively added. "Or else he'd have already started invading."

"What? Maker, they've been here two years. They hate it here. We don't want them here. What could be so Maker-damned important?" Aveline asked, fuming.

Aria put her head down on Aveline's desk, none too gently. "I guess we have to go find out," she said, her breath fogging the lacquered hardwood surface, her voice muffled. "Maybe I should take him a kitten. Everyone softens at the sight of kittens."

"He'd probably use it for target practice or eat it," Aveline snidely replied, a slight smile spreading her thin lips when Fenris chuckled at this.

Aria sat up and leaned back a little in the chair. "You're probably right. I'm not going in there alone. You two at least are coming with me. Should I go get Varric?"

"With his connections and his savvy, he's a wise choice," Fenris approved.

Aveline nodded. "Yes. Hawke, go get Varric. I'll meet you at the Qunari compound and we can tackle this mess together."

"Just—let me do the talking at first, ok?" Aria pleaded. "Afterall, he did ask for me."

Aveline nodded and Fenris and Aria took their leave. They trotted the whole way to the Hanged Man. Aria waved at Isabela at the bar before they raced up the stairs. The other rogue looked curious, but she did not leave her post.

"Hawke! Elf! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Varric asked, standing as his comrades entered.

"Don't be too happy to see us," Aria good-naturedly said, grasping the dwarven merchant prince's forearm in greeting. "We've an errand to run, posthaste if you please."

Varric sighed and grabbed Bianca and his well-worn leather duster without pause. "What are we walking into now?"

"The Arishok has demanded an audience with Hawke, via the Viscount," Fenris filled him in as they bounded down the steps into the bar proper.

"Shit," Varric said, holstering Bianca on his back.

"My thoughts exactly," Aria growled.

Aria filled him in on the details as they made their way down to the docks, where the Qunari compound was located. Aveline waited for them outside the gate. The guard there saw Hawke and immediately granted them entrance.

Aria hated the Qunari compound. She disliked their glares and their indifference towards humans in general. Not everyone could be born with brute strength and horns on their head. But trying to get that through their overly thick skulls was an exercise in futility. The biggest thing however, that Aria didn't like, was the fact that she was terrified of the Arishok. She'd fought Tal Vashoth, the defectors of the Qun, before and come out on the winning end. She never wanted to have to face the Arishok in battle.

"Serah Hawke," the Arishok almost purred, sending the hairs up on the back of Aria's neck as her party halted just before the steps that led up to where the Arishok sat.

"Messere," Aria congenially stated, giving a slight bow.

"Last we met, I did not know your name. Did not care to. You have changed your fortune over the years. The Qunari have not. I offer a courtesy, Hawke. Someone has stolen what he thinks is the formula for gaatlok. You will want to hunt him," the Arishok smoothly stated, his eyes regarding her with much less disdain than they had in her past dealings with the monster.

Aria sighed, remembering the slippery dwarf who'd been after the bombs the Qunari possessed. She didn't want to deal with Javaris Tintop again. She knew she should have just killed him when she had the chance.

"Excuse me, but that sounds like quite the feat," she said, pandering to the Arishok's glaringly evident sense of pride.

"It was allowed," the Arishok replied. "The stolen formula was a decoy. Saar-qamek—a poison gas, not explosives. A small amount is dangerous to your kind. But if made in quantity, perhaps by someone intending to sell it..." He trailed off, looking to Hawke to connect the dots.

"That merchant—Javaris," Aria said with bitter celerity.

"Would he be cautious, or would he assume success and make enough to threaten a district?" he continued, a slight, vicious smile lighting his lips. He licked them, then repeated, "A courtesy, Hawke. You will want to hunt him."

"How dangerous is this Saar-qamek?" Aveline interjected and Aria shook her head slightly, trying to keep the Guard-Captain from inciting the Arishok. They were too much alike and Aveline didn't have the horns to go head to head with him.

The Arishok looked at the redheaded warrior with open distaste, and instead of speaking to her, he answered her question by talking to Aria. "It is not a threat to Qunari. For your kind, it is as dangerous as those who breathe it."

"Can you elaborate?" Aria pressed before Aveline could make this any worse. The Guard-Captain glared at the rogue but held her tongue.

"The gas kills. But first, it turns allies against their own in blind rage. So, the greater the skill of those sent against us, the more dangerous they become to their own people."

Aria shook her head. "Hard to control at the best of times."

"It is no longer our problem," the Arishok replied almost happily. If he could indeed express that emotion. Aria doubted it.

"I appreciate you bringing this to me," Aria diplomatically stated, inclining her head.

"I have long thought this city would destroy itself. This will only hasten the inevitable. Panahedan, Hawke. I do not hope you die," he replied, also inclining his head.

They left then, Aria eager to put as much distance between them and the Qunari as possible. She didn't relent until they were back in Varric's room at the Hanged Man.

"We have to get out in front of this, and fast," Aveline said, almost out of breath. Varric closed his door and motioned them all to sit at the enormous table in his common room.

Aria rubbed her armored arms as though the gesture would warm them. She hated being terrified. She hated more that it showed. Fenris was keeping his distance from her, but his eyes softened when he looked at her. He quirked a half smile for her benefit.

"Where would we find Javaris?" Aria asked Varric, her voice shaking slightly.

"Good question. Coterie would be our best bet. I heard his lots were up for sale in Darktown. Maybe start there?" Varric suggested, smiling at Norah as she brought in a tray full of pints of ale for all of them. Aria was thankful—a drink would settle her fear-stricken nerves.

"I will double the guard postings right away," Aveline said, refusing the pint Norah offered her. She stood and moved to leave. "Hurry, Hawke. Lives may be at stake."

As soon as the Guard-Captain closed the door Aria put her head down on the table and covered her ears with her hands. Varric and Fenris exchanged curious glances.

"Hawke?" Varric said after a moment.

Aria lifted her head and took the pint from the tray. She downed the whole thing in one go and slammed the glass on the table. "I have a very, very bad feeling about all of this."

"You don't say?" Varric chuckled, sipping from his own pint. "Would you like Aveline's as well?"

"Maker, yes!" she sighed in exasperation, taking the unclaimed pint. She drank this one much more slowly.

"I don't think Javaris is the one behind all this," Fenris said then, taking a swig from his glass. "He doesn't seem..."

"Intelligent enough," Varric finished for him.

"Well I didn't want to insult a kinsmen," Fenris said, and Varric chuckled.

"He's no more my kin than Daisy is yours," Varric smoothly replied.

"Bah!" Fenris spat at this.

They finished their pints in relative silence before getting up from the table. "Since we're headed that way, why don't we go get Blondie. I'm sure he's itching to get out of the clinic for a day," Varric suggested as they walked down into the bar. Fenris only grunted in response. Aria nodded in agreement.

"Sure. Because I haven't had enough excitement for today," Aria half-joked.

Varric laughed but didn't say anything more on the matter.


	24. Chapter TWENTY-THREE

**Chapter 23**

It turned out that Fenris was right. Javaris was a pawn, a patsy, someone left holding the bag. The crazed elf who framed him threatened to take out an entire housing community in Lowtown. Aria stopped it from reaching full fruition, however it cost many lives. Aria wearily reported back to the Viscount and Aveline before heading home, her lungs still burning from the effects of the poison gas the elf had released in that neighborhood.

Bodahn informed her of another letter on her desk as she started stripping off her armor. She asked him to have it cleaned, as the gas had left all of it with a yellow-green tinge. She drew several large buckets of water from her well and lugged them inside to heat over the fire. She felt as though _she_ had a yellow-green tinge to her entire person. She was weary, and her fear of the Arishok still kept her pulse thrumming and her hands shaking.

While the water warmed, she decided to pen the day's events in her journal. Isabela had drawn crude stick figures in the margin of her most recent entry. There was a stick figure with enormous ears and well-endowed manhood, another stick figure with large breasts and two daggers, yet another shorter stick figure with a perfectly drawn crossbow and fluffy chest hair, and a surprisingly accurate self-portrait of the dusky Rivaini pirate herself. Aria shook her head at the drawings and flipped back a few pages to find edits done in the margins to her previous entries. She knew the handwriting too well. Varric had taken it upon himself to liven up her documentary of events with grand details and new, witty commentary.

Aria was dipping her quill in the ink to start penning today's entry when Bodahn called for her. She threw on her robe, covering the simple, sheer black nightie she'd donned, then padded barefoot out to the landing that overlooked the common room and foyer of her mansion.

"She'll be with you momentarily. It would seem our mistress had a troubling day," Bodahn was saying to someone who'd entered.

"I just wanted to check on her," came Anders's smooth, charming voice.

A lump suddenly blocked Aria's throat at the sight of the mage and she quickly swallowed it. "Anders? May I help you?" she called, the trill in her voice giving away the frayed edges of her nerves.

Anders bowed slightly at Bodahn and climbed the stairs. Though he moved swiftly, he appeared to do so in slow motion to Aria. When he reached her, he took her hand and led her to her bedroom. Aria was glad mother was sleeping. She didn't need the lecture in the morning about how bad it looked when an apostate led a lady into a bedroom, then locked the door.

"Are you alright?" he asked once the door was closed.

Aria regarded him with a perplexed cock of her head to one side. "Yes? Why, what happened now?"

Anders went over to her hearth where the water was warming. He held his hands out and the flames went higher. Only then did he turn to face her again.

"You're terrified of the Arishok," he quietly said, his warm, chocolate eyes going over her from head to toe, a slight smile quirking his lips when he saw her bare feet.

"Am I so transparent?" Aria groused, hugging her arms about herself for warmth as she sat back down in the chair at the desk.

"No, you hide it well, but after going through hell with you, I know when you're scared. You needn't be," Anders gently said, seating himself in the chair by the hearth.

"It is silly, isn't it? We've fought dragons and darkspawn, demons and blood mages, templars and rock wraiths... And I'm scared of one Qunari," Aria laughed nervously to herself.

"Exactly. If he does decide to be the conqueror that he no doubt is, you can handle him," Anders cheerily said. "And you won't be alone," he tenderly added, his eyes meeting hers fully and the sincerity there nearly broke her heart.

"I would hope not," Aria replied candidly.

"Have you heard from Bethany lately?" Anders said, abruptly changing the subject.

"I haven't, no, but Mother visits her once a week. She said Bethany is doing well. She's mentoring children," Aria answered his inquiry, tightening her robe slightly.

"I'm glad to hear that. Some day, maybe she'll be able to do that in the open air, as a free woman, and not as a slave to the templars," Anders congenially replied.

"Ah, Justice," Aria sighed, shaking her head.

"No, that's my hope coming through," Anders softly stated, his tone registering slight hurt.

Aria shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Forgive me if this seems a rude question, but—why are you really here?"

Anders sighed and looked down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep, steadying breath. "I just had to be near you tonight. And I had to see if... If the rumors were true."

Aria laughed nervously. "Rumors?"

"Has Fenris been staying here at night with you recently?" His expression was carefully neutral, but the flames in his eyes gave his jealousy and hurt away.

Aria stood so fast she unsettled the chair. It bumped the table and sloshed a small splotch of black ink onto the surface. She quickly blotted it up with a kerchief. "He has been coming here for reading lessons, actually. But he's gone before dark and he certainly doesn't remain here entire nights at a time."

She mentally berated herself for the way she was responding, as though she'd committed a crime. _Why did she feel like this?!_ Maker, she couldn't take any more of this. Everyone in her life was going to rip her asunder until the fragments of her being were small enough to float on whatever wind decided to take them. And she'd never be whole again when it happened.

"It's—it's not my place, I know," Anders said by her ear, his hands gently taking her shoulders. He turned her to face him, his hands skimming down her arms until he caught hers up in them. He placed them on his chest. "It's just that... I lie awake every night, aching for you. Knowing you were here, alone, dealing with everything that's happened in just the past year alone... I just want to know that you're ok."

Aria's heart had jumped into her esophagus. Wasn't this what she really wanted? Someone who cared enough for her to check on her? Someone who held her in their thoughts? Things with Fenris were hot and cold. Anders was a steady, merry hearth, with the occasional shower of sparks. Andraste guide her, for this storm was not one she was ready to deal with.

"I'm fine," she whispered, avoiding his gaze.

"That is all I wanted to know," he also whispered, tilting her chin up. "Would you like me to fill the tub for you before I go?"

Aria's weary body, heart, and mind could finally agree on something. "That would be lovely."

She sat on the bed while he emptied the buckets into the tub. He tested the water and decided it needed to be warmer. His hands glowed red as they rested on the outside of the tub and he whispered something in a strange tongue over the water. It began to bubble slightly.

"There. It should keep its warmth for the next two hours or so, if you should choose to linger. If you add Bethany's soaps, use at most half of what you normally do or they'll overrun your room. Don't fall asleep in the tub; that'd ruin all of the heroic tales Varric has spun about you," he kindly said, striding over to the door. "Hawke can't drown in a bathtub."

"Thank you, Anders," Aria wearily laughed, standing to show him out.

"No, Aria, thank you," he responded, drawing her to him. He embraced her for a moment, his chin resting on her shoulder, his lips near her ear. He whispered something under his breath, but she couldn't tell what it was.

Aria stayed in his embrace for a moment, needing the reassurance more than she could even admit to herself. He gently let her go and left her in her room, leaving her more alone and even more confused than ever.

Aria woke to the sound of someone rapping on her bed room door. The light thuds could have only belonged to her mother.

"Birdie? Are you awake?"

Aria groaned and sat up, then quickly covered herself when the door opened slightly. Her mother's head poked in and the woman regarded her with an uncomfortable smile.

"What is it?" Aria sleepily asked, her voice raspy. She cleared her throat and motioned the woman in.

"What happened? I heard someone tried to murder an entire district with poisonous gas last night. People are blaming the Qunari. They said you were there?" Leandra said, entering the room with a flourish and closing the door behind her.

"Oh that. I suppose word does get around," Aria groaned, laying back in bed, her blankets swaddled around her presently naked form.

"Did you have any ill effects?" Leandra asked worriedly, sitting on the side of Aria's bed.

"No. I'm fine, Mother. Really."

Leandra patted her head, as though she were a small child again, then stood and went to Aria's closet. "What would you like to wear today?"

"Nothing," Aria grunted. "I want to stay right here in my blankets all day."

Leandra laughed at this and shook her head. "No. You're going to get up. You're going to go out. And you're going to enjoy yourself. No fights. No deaths. No poison. No Viscounts or Qunari or bandits or whatever else you normally do. Maker's breath, child. You need to go shopping."

Aria drew her blankets over her head and turned over to lie on her stomach. She could hear her mother rifling through the meager options her closet offered. Her mother padded back over and pulled the blankets down to Aria's shoulders. She gasped when she saw the red design that spread across her back.

"Aria! What is this?" Leandra asked, aghast. Her fingers touched the tattoo.

"Oh, it's a hawk, and it's my rite of passage into the Dalish," Aria grumbled into the pillow.

"Did it hurt?"

"I've had worse."

"How long have you had it?" Leandra gently queried, leaning in to look at the tattoo more closely.

"A month. A year. Maker only knows," came Aria's muffled response.

Leandra made a clicking noise with her tongue and went back to rifling through the closet. "Will your elven friend be here today?"

Aria turned over and sat up again, reaching for her robe. She donned it while her mother's back was turned then went over to grudgingly open her shutters. The brightness of the sun stung her eyes for a moment. She fought the urge to hiss.

"I don't know. He just...shows up," Aria softly replied, looking at the three dresses her mother had laid out on the bed for her. They were tasteful, high-fashion numbers that weren't too unbearable. Her mother knew her well.

"I like the green one best on you. It works best with your skin tone and eyes," Leandra offered, pointing to the mossy green, silk gown in the center of the three choices.

"Mother, what's going on?" Aria suspiciously asked.

"Hmm?" Leandra distractedly replied, digging through the pile of shoes and boots that littered the bottom of Aria's closet.

"Is it my birthday again? Has it been a year already?"

Leandra laughed at this. "No, child. I just don't want you wallowing."

"Wallowing?" Aria asked, perplexed. "Why would I be wallowing? In what?"

"That mage was here last night," Leandra said and Aria's blood went cold.

"Yes but...we didn't... I mean... He was just checking in on me and there was nothing..." Aria sputtered, crumpling the dress in her trepidation.

"Who am I to judge?" Leandra laughed. "I ran away from a life of nobility to live as the wife of an apostate."

"Ugh," Aria grunted in disgust, sitting down abruptly on the bed, so much so that she bounced a couple times.

"For what it's worth, I still like the elf."

With that, she kissed the top of her daughter's head and left the room so Aria could dress. Aria took all three dresses and hung them carefully back up in the closet. She grabbed a pair of black leather breeches, a white peasant blouse, and over them she put on her armor. She then tugged on her best pair of greaves, chest armor, gauntlets, and strapped her trademark daggers in their belt across her back.

When Aria emerged, her mother just shook her head and chuckled before walking down the stairs to get something to eat. Aria took her leave, accepting the hunk of fresh bread and cheese Bodahn handed her before she could walk out the door. She snagged an apple from the tree outside her estate and munched on that while she walked.

Maybe today she'd go call on Merrill and see what was going on in the realm of crazy elven blood mage land.


	25. Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

**Chapter 24**

When Aria reached the alienage, the Dalish pariah was watering some flowers set at the base of the heart tree. Merrill's jewel-like green eyes twinkled merrily at the sight of the rogue and she waved Aria over.

"Are we fighting someone today?" Merrill cheerily asked, inspecting a tulip with delicate hands.

Aria sighed. "Not if I go the rest of the day unprovoked."

"Who would provoke you?" Merrill asked, wide-eyed.

"Anymore? Only very powerful people," Aria bitterly laughed.

"Have you been checking on your vallaslin?" Merrill queried, indicating Aria's back.

"My mother was impressed with it," Aria simply replied, with a slight shrug.

"I like your mother. She has an open mind. Come inside, I'll have a look and make sure it isn't fading or splotching. Sometimes, it does that and it has to be touched up," Merrill chimed, motioning Hawke to follow her into the little hovel Merrill called home.

They went inside and Aria took off the upper body portion of her armor. She unlaced the blouse a little so that it slid enough off her shoulders that Merrill could inspect the tattoo on her back.

"How does it look?" Aria asked after the elven mage prodded it in a couple places.

"It's good, but could do with a little touching up if you're up for it. It will...hurt," Merrill added apologetically.

"After the night I had, I could use a little tension relief. Do what you need, touch it up."

Merrill gathered supplies to make the vallaslin. She used Hawke's blood mixed with a scarlet dye to create the bright, arterial blood red color. When that was ready, she filled an ornate vial with the vallaslin, attached a tiny hollow needle made of silverite to it, and set to work.

Aria sat facing the mirror Merrill had been attempting to fix, her arms draped over the back of the rough-hewn chair. The first bite of the needle stung and Aria couldn't help but smile into the crook of her elbow. She liked the pain; it sang through her nerve endings, chased away her inner demons for the moment and it granted her a sense of clarity and serenity like nothing else she'd ever experienced.

Merrill drove the needle slightly deeper, chanting something arcane beneath her breath, the needle darting under Aria's skin in a blurring, staccato rhythm so fast that the searing burn became constant. Aria did not wince at all. This beautiful pain was a physical release for all the emotional pain she kept locked away in her soul. It was transcendence of a sort, and Aria briefly wondered if there might be something wrong with what she was doing. Normal people didn't need to experience physical pain in order to purge emotional pain, did they?

"I've rarely seen anyone be able to hold so still while they endure this," Merrill softly commented after a few long, silent moments.

Aria chuckled softly. "I actually like the pain."

Merrill nodded, even though Hawke couldn't see her. "I think I understand."

"Do you?" Aria asked, genuinely interested in what Merrill had to say.

"Yes. Sometimes... People get so caught up in keeping secrets, that they have to find a way to physically manifest their anguish."

It was a surprisingly profound comment and Aria wondered fleetingly if the blood mage was reading her mind. She did have a vial of Hawke's blood, afterall.

"You're absolutely correct," Aria quietly stated.

"People ask too much of you. You should do more for yourself. Be happy. There's too much...bad in this world to squander the things that make it brighter."

Aria considered this a moment. "I don't know what makes me happy anymore."

Merrill stepped back and surveyed her handiwork. Satisfied, she placed a soft, clean linen cloth over the entire tattoo and pressed for a few seconds. She removed it with the gentleness of a summer breeze and presented the linen to Hawke.

A perfect replica of the tattoo lay emblazoned on the linen, only this one was made entirely of blood. Aria stared at it for a moment, then handed the linen back to Merrill. She smiled her satisfaction and Merrill fetched a jar of sweet-smelling salve. She slathered a bit of it over the tattoo, then helped Aria gingerly don her armor again.

"Before you go, I have—a slight favor to ask of you," Merrill sheepishly stated as Aria strapped her daggers once more onto her back.

"I am in your debt," Aria graciously replied, resting her hand supportively on Merrill's shoulder.

"The mirror... It's almost finished, I think, but I need an ancient tool from the Keeper to do it," Merrill blurted out, her elvish accent thickening in her duress.

"That mirror is dangerous," Aria softly said. "I know you want to preserve your past for your people, but sometimes, things that are in the past, need to be left there."

"I know what I'm doing, Hawke," Merrill pleaded. "Please, just...go to the Keeper with me. Help me get the aru'lin-holm."

Aria sighed and placed her hands on both of Merrill's shoulders. "Alright, but at the very first hint of danger, I'm smashing that thing."

Merrill nodded mutely at this, tears welling in her gigantic, emerald eyes.

"Hey," Aria murmured, pulling the mage to her for a hug. "I'm not saying I won't help you. I'm just trying to...save you. You can't trust demons for help, lethallan."

Merrill smiled at the elvish term of endearment, happy that Aria had absorbed some of her people's culture. She nodded again at Aria and showed her to the door. Aria trudged out of the alienage, wincing as the leather strap that sheathed her daggers shifted across the tender, inked skin between her shoulders.

Aria was actually quite fond of Merrill; her simple, almost childish view of the world gave her a unique perspective. She just got tripped up in this crazily erroneous way of thinking when it came to demons. Mage blood flowed through Aria's own veins. She knew far too well what blood magic wrought and nothing good ever came of it. She just hoped, for Merrill's sake, that the elf would see that in time to keep it from destroying her.

At least, the venture would give her something to do. Mother was going to drive her crazy playing dress up if she didn't. She walked briskly to Darktown to pay Anders a visit. If she was going to head up the mountain with Merrill, she wanted another mage there who knew about possessions.

There was a line of three or four people waiting to be treated when Aria arrived at the clinic. A sudden pang of remorse hit her when she realized how much Bethany had helped Anders heal the city's poor and sick people. She smiled weakly when his eyes finally met hers. He waved her over and returned to setting the broken leg of a small girl with surprisingly well-made splints.

"I'm glad you came to see me today," he softly stated as the girl's parents escorted her out of the clinic. A pregnant woman stepped up and took her place.

"You won't be when I'm done asking what I need of you," Aria glibly replied, then offered the pregnant woman a smile.

Anders chuckled and put his ear to the woman's belly. "Have the pains stopped?"

"Yes, messere. Thank you. I still have the dizziness and weak spells, though," the woman responded.

"I'm going to put you on bed rest. That baby will be here next week. Do not tax yourself overmuch, or you will lose it."

She thanked him again, took the herb vials he offered, and made her way out the door. A sickly, frail, hunchbacked elderly man stepped painfully forward. He employed a crutch to help him ambulate. He complained of pain in his bones; so deep it was that he could hardly bear to move. Aria watched Anders crush some strange bluish-silver flowers with a mortar and pestle, then he smeared the strangely clear liquid over the man's leg joints and feet. The man seemed instantly relieved and Anders gave him a few vials he'd had stashed of the clear liquid. Once that man had gone, Anders dispersed cough remedies to the remaining people.

Anders motioned Aria to sit at his dining table. He gave her a plate with bread and butter and some dried fruits. After he poured them both glasses of wine, he sat across from her.

"What is it you need of me?" he asked at last, sipping from his glass as he waited for her response.

"Merrill needs to acquire some carving tool of some sort from the Keeper," Aria answered quickly.

Anders sighed at this and pinched the bridge of his nose between his middle finger and thumb for a moment. "She does realize that damned mirror has demon written all over it, right?"

"I don't think that has ever crossed her mind," Aria bitterly laughed, taking a bite of the bread he'd given her. It was deliciously soft and the outer crust was just the right bit of flaky.

"Much as I hate to say it, bring Fenris. If she goes abomination, we're going to need all the brute strength we can muster to keep her busy enough to destroy," Anders groaned mournfully.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Aria said, popping the rest of the food into her mouth and quickly chewing it.

"When are we leaving?" Anders asked, finishing his wine. Aria did the same.

"Dawn. I've got to get some supplies packed and check in with Hubert on some mine business," Aria said as she stood. He mimicked her and walked her to the door.

"Are we meeting at the Point?" he queried as she stepped over the threshold into Darktown.

"As always," Aria replied with a smile. She turned and bounded down the steps that led to the mucky street.

"Stop!" Anders suddenly called, jogging to reach her again. He lifted the cloak from her shoulders and saw the freshly touched-up tattoo on her shoulders. "You're bleeding..."

"Oh, Merrill fixed it. Or something," Aria said, wincing slightly as Anders's hands tugged the strap off of her dagger sheaths. He let it drop, then smoothed his hand across the skin. It felt instantly better. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. See you at dawn," Anders amicably replied with a slight bow. He offered her a smile before he turned and went back up the steps into his clinic.

Next stop, Hightown. Aria winced with every thought she had as she ascended the steps towards the city's "noble" district. People either glared at her as she passed, refugees who hated her for her success; or they hailed her as though she were a long lost friend, seeing her as a beacon of hope for their own plights. She wished they wouldn't call her a hero. There was little honor in most things she'd accomplished.

Hubert was waiting for her at the top of the steps. She'd barely had time to acknowledge him before he launched into supposed ramblings of creatures stirring once more in the mines and the even more troubling fact that someone from inside their operation was giving intel to have their caravans raided. Aria agreed to go with him and confront the Fereldan who stood accused of the crime.

It was a taxing venture and Hubert got the Coterie involved. The Coterie was one of the top crime organizations in Kirkwall, and Hubert sought them out for protection. Aria wasn't fond of the agent he was involved with; a bloodthirsty, heartless woman named Lilley.

Aria went with a complement of the Coterie to investigate a lead the Fereldan turncoat had given them, after she rescued the poor sod from Hubert's pitiful fury. She couldn't blame the man; she'd been in his shoes not too long ago, scraping to get by.

Turned out that a man named Brekker was running his own operations outside his allegiance to the Coterie. Lilley left to investigate his involvement after they'd slain the mercenaries who had tried to ambush another of Hawke's caravans.

Aria wearily returned to High Town well after sundown. She stopped by Hubert's modest mansion to inform him of the events and shared a glass of fine Antivan brandy with him. She then went to Fenris's home, but found no one there.

Her mother was waiting for her at the door when she returned home.

"You're covered in blood and dirt," Leandra said as her daughter walked through the door. She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"I've had a busy day," Aria neutrally replied, allowing Bodahn to take her cloak and daggers from her.

"Fenris is in the study, working on penmanship," Leandra said as they walked into the common room. She went upstairs to her own room after knowingly smiling at her daughter.

Aria took the bowl of mutton stew Bodahn offered her and went up to the study. Fenris sat hunched over the desk, a quill in his hand. He didn't look up when she entered, and ignored her still when she settled herself across from him. Aria surveyed the lines of flowing words that graced half of the parchment page before Fenris.

"You have lovely handwriting," she said after a moment.

"Your mother said as much," Fenris replied almost curtly.

"I'm sorry—what have I done to deserve this coldness?" Aria answered the subdued anger in his voice.

He looked up at her, his verdant eyes cold. "Nothing."

"Well it certainly doesn't appear that way," Aria retorted.

Fenris stood abruptly and paced in front of the fireplace a few seconds. Then he rounded on her. "He was here last night."

Aria shook her head and pounded her fist on the table. "Is that what you're all fired up about?"

He glared at her, cold green fury lancing straight through her. "You evaded the question."

"You didn't ask a question, you made a statement."

"Don't get technical. Why was he here?"

Aria stood and leaned over the table, meeting his gaze full force with her own. "To check on me. He knows when I'm rattled. And yesterday, I was rattled."

"Pah!" Fenris spat, turning away from her. He rested his hands on the mantle, his arms splayed out. His head hung low as he gazed broodily into the fire for a moment. "He's manipulating you. That man...that _mage_ is a master at finding ways to weasel himself in, just enough to prick at everything a person is most sensitive to. He'll find the weakest spot, and then he'll tear at it until he gets what he wants."

"What in the Maker's name are you talking about?" Aria asked, her ire piqued.

"Nothing. I think I'm done with lessons for the evening," he said, returning to the table to clean up his implements. Aria watched him in angry silence.

"I need you tomorrow," she finally said as he made to leave the study.

Her voice was strained and weary. He hated hearing that. She could make his blood boil simultaneously from two completely conflicting emotions. He hated the influence that manipulative conjurer had over her. He hated his own position for not being what she deserved. He loved her for her strength and her compassion. He loved that she defied him and hated her for it, all in the same heartbeat. But those words... Those words would have him bend to whatever her will deemed necessary. And he both hated and loved her for that as well.

"For?" he asked, his tone softening, his shoulders relaxing. He did not turn to face her.

"Just...be at the Point at dawn. Please?"

He rounded on her again and strode over to where she sat once more. He rested one hand on the table, the other going to the back of his neck to relieve the knot of tension that had risen there. He still refused to meet her gaze; mostly for fear she would see his thoughts in his eyes.

"What do you need of me?"

Aria sighed and rubbed at her temples. "Merrill needs a tool from the Dalish."

"For what purpose?" he bitterly asked, his fingernails biting into the wood of the desk's face.

"She wants to restore that Maker-damned mirror," Aria huffed in disgust, slamming a fist on the table. "Don't bother lecturing me with your well-pronounced hate of her. I need you, in case something happens."

"I imagine you've already asked Anders," he snarled.

"Who better to fight an abomination than another abomination?"

He glared at her then through the reckless fringe of his silvery hair, so similar in shade to her own. "Aria, your logic... Is at best, fallible."

"That is why I want you there."

He only grunted in response and made for the door. Aria rested her head in her hands, staring blankly down at the parchment before her. She didn't know for how long she'd sat that way, but when her hand was suddenly enveloped in warmth, she looked up.

Fenris's face was inches from hers. His eyes were a storm of warring emotions and thoughts. She lost herself in them for a breath or two, then looked over at the fire in the hearth. He deftly caught her chin and drew her visage back so he could look into her eyes.

"I will be there," he softly said, then took his leave completely.

Aria sat in the study a long time, watching the flames in the hearth. Mother came in, dressed in her nightclothes and luxurious robe. She sat in the chair Fenris had vacated and inspected his handiwork.

"He is a prickly character," Leandra said after a few more silent moments had passed.

"Hmmmph," Aria snorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I take it you're going to be gone a few days?"

"With any luck, that's all it'll take. Hopefully it's just a quick exchange and I can be done with it," Aria said as she stood and stretched.

"Be safe, child. Wake me when you make to leave," Leanrda replied, also standing. She and Aria walked up the stairs to their rooms together, arm in arm. Aria left her at her door with a good night hug and retreated to her own room.

She busied herself with packing, assisted by Sandal and Bodahn. They carried her two rucksacks downstairs for her and she closed her bedroom door after them. Dawn was but a few hours away, and she was going to need every ounce of energy she had to deal with Anders and Fenris tomorrow. Joy of joys.

Aria removed her armour as they made camp just outside the Dalish's current homestead. Two days' worth of hiking and they finally made it. Tomorrow morning, they'd meet with Marethari. Merrill assured Hawke that it would be a quick affair. Aria hoped she was right.

It was unbelievably hot out and the heavy undermail was stifling. Sweat poured off her in torrid rivulets and she was all too aware of how badly she smelled. Her thin cotton camisole clung to her like a second skin. The breeze that wafted down the mountainside was most welcome against her bared flesh. Merrill came up behind her, looking at the tattoo on her back that was now visible.

"It's healing nicely," she said, smiling and offering her a flagon of ice cold water. "Very quickly, too. It amazes me how resilient you are."

"It is, and I may have had a healer's help," Aria agreed as she took a long draught from the proffered canteen, then handed it back to the elven mage.

Fenris sat on the other side of Aria, taking the canteen from Merrill as she offered it. He too took a long drink then looked questioningly at Aria.

"What is that on your back?" he bluntly asked, reaching up to tentatively run his fingers over the ink. He'd seen it before, but had never found the right time or place to inquire after it.

Aria smiled and shivered involuntarily. Goosebumps appeared down her arms at the gesture but thankfully, no one seemed to notice.

"It's a hawk, silly. What did you think it was?" Merrill interjected, baffled by his question.

"I can see that, blood mage. I mean, how did you acquire it?" he said, his eyes still on the design.

"I asked for it," Aria simply stated, leaning forward and unlacing her boots.

"Why would you ask for such a thing?" Fenris queried.

"I did it to become one of the people," Aria softly replied, returning the smile that Merrill gave her.

"Was it terribly painful?" he pressed, touching the design again.

"It was," Aria said. "Very much so."

"But you—chose to have it done?"

"Yes, Fenris."

"That's…very noble," he softly said, his expression contemplative.

"Thank you. I'm truly glad you think so," Aria congenially replied.

"Why the scarlet dye, though?" he asked, finally taking his eyes away from the design and meeting her gaze.

"It has very little dye in it," Merrill answered for her. "It's mostly Aria's own blood."

Fenris grimaced, then nodded sternly. "And you did it as a sign of solidarity?"

"I respect the Dales. They are a good, noble, hearty people. They have suffered much, and yet here they are," Aria said, kicking off the boot she'd just finished unlacing and going to work on the other.

"I have known only little of them. But if they've garnered your respect, they must be worthy," Fenris said, standing and stretching. He looked down at Aria, still more questions in his unfathomable green eyes. "Why did you get it on your back and not your face or arms?"

"Because sometimes it's best that alliances remain hidden," Aria answered him, lost for the moment in his gaze.

"But—if you're considered of the people, why wouldn't you want it known?"

"Because she's an honorary, but not a blood member of the clan," Merrill answered for her again. "Only full-blooded elves who have completely integrated into the Dalish are allowed to have it visible."

"Oh Maker, this heat is going to be the death of me," Anders said as he joined them. He was soaked head to toe, having just come from the waterfall just north of their camp. Aria averted her eyes from his naked form. Merrill blushed and also looked away. Fenris eyed him with unabashed disgust. Anders tugged his robes back on, covering his mostly naked body from view.

"I can think of much worse deaths for you," Fenris growled, turning and stalking towards his tent. He cast the mage one more baleful stare before disappearing behind the tent's flap.

"Well, the heat certainly doesn't make his demeanor any better," Anders sniped, sitting down in the spot Fenris had just vacated.

"I didn't notice any change," Merrill innocently stated.

"Exactly," Anders groaned, watching Aria kick off her other boot.

"I'm going to walk to the falls," Aria said as she rolled her socks down and off her feet. She stood and looked down at both of the mages, "Be back in a little while."

"Alright," Merrill chirped, walking over to their cook fire and setting the wood ablaze. She stood there and watched the flames, mesmerized.

Anders rose to his feet and smoothed his hand over the tattoo on her back, a sweet smile on his lips. "You should show that off more often."

Aria smiled politely, flexing her toes in the grass and enjoying the sensation it left on her bare feet. "It's my secret."

"Then I'm glad to know it," he murmured, grazing her cheek with the back of his hand.

She smiled wryly and walked away, uncomfortable with the affection he was bestowing upon her. In the wake of his requests of her to aid him and the amount of trust he begged of her, she was growing slightly wary and fearful of him, as he foretold she would. Add to this the fact that she had a painfully obvious attraction to Fenris... It made for an unpleasantly interesting triangle. Varric was having a heyday with it, she feared. Especially when Merrill gave him all the details. She was terrible at keeping secrets, Aria had learned.

Sighing, Aria reached into her tent and brought forth her bathing implements, as well as clean undergarments and a clean camisole. She was not putting her armor back on until it was absolutely necessary. She tucked everything into her leather rucksack and walked down to the waterfall.

Tall oaks and ash trees surrounded the river, cooling the air there further. It was serene and beautiful here. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, not at all sure that she was alone. There could be Dales around, scouting and making sure the shems in the area didn't offer any sort of threat.

With a soft sigh, she set to undressing and quickly waded up to her chest in the water. It was a lovely relief, having the cool water rush over her skin. She began to swim up the current, angling towards the waterfall, holding the pack over her head with one hand to keep it dry.

She quickly bathed and returned to camp. Merrill said watches were not necessary, as the Dales were about. Aria went to her tent after helping Merrill douse the cook fire. She lay there contemplating all the ways tomorrow's quest would go down. Best case scenario, Merrill got the tool she needed. Worst case, Merrill would be possessed and Aria would have to kill her. Aria decided to entertain the former idea as she drifted off to sleep.


	26. Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

**Chapter 25**

The journey was a success, of sorts. Merrill was truly a pariah now. Her people looked upon her as though she had some highly contagious, very nasty disease. They all knew of Merrill's ill-kept secret. In Aria's eyes, they were more than justified for their ire. She was left in the difficult position of keeping Merrill from jumping farther down the rabbit hole while keeping the peace with those who saw her as a perpetually growing threat.

All they had to do to obtain the arulin'holm from Marethari was kill a varterral: A mammoth of a creature with four stony, spider-like legs attached to an arachnid-like body, with an enormous spear of a head. It had taken them nearly two hours of constant battle to take the creature down. With the angered creature slain and the hunters' amulets returned to the Keeper, Marethari produced the arulin'holm, but urged Hawke to disallow Merrill's further obsession with the mirror.

"Reason with her, Hawke. Please, don't let her do this," Marethari desperately begged of Aria as she handed the tool over.

The Keeper disappeared into the Dalish Camp and left Aria to deal with Merrill. Aria slowly turned to face the self-avowed blood mage, trepidation written all over her features.

"Merrill, no good can come of completing that thing," Aria softly stated, her eyes dropping to her feet.

"But you promised! And you are not of the Dales! How can you keep it? That is _mine_!" Merrill snapped at her then, trying to snatch the strange, small instrument from Aria's grasp. The rogue spun and faced her, a dagger drawn.

"I am an honorary of the People," Aria tersely stated, quickly stashing the arulin'holm in her breast pocket. "Which means I have the right. Why can't you see that I'm trying to protect you from yourself? You are your own worst enemy, lethallan."

"Don't you _dare_ say that to me!" Merrill shrilly cried, her voice cracking with rage.

Aria sighed and sheathed her dagger. "If you can prove to me that restoring that mirror will cause no harm, I will gladly give this to you. But you said it killed Fenarel, one of your kinsmen, and infected yet another hunter with the same affliction cured only by becoming a Grey Warden. Its track record speaks for itself, Merrill."

"Listen to Hawke," Fenris said then, his voice stern and his eyes cold. "She's not torturing you. She's saving you. Like your Keeper tried to do. Do yourself and favor and just-"

"You shut up! I hate you! I can't take this," Merrill screamed at Fenris, then turned and disappeared down the trail leading away from the camp.

"Maker, she runs fast," Aria said on a heavy exhale of breath.

"She is on a path to self destruction," Anders wearily stated, falling into step behind Aria and Fenris as they followed their angry, wayward companion.

"You would know," Fenris quipped.

"Enough!" Aria barked at both of them. "I've—had enough fighting for the day. Let's go home, before Merrill decides to bathe Kirkwall in fire and blood."

Fenris sniggered at this, glaring at Hawke through the fringe of his reckless hair. But he said no more. Anders fumed silently, passing them to take the lead down the wending, rutted mountain trail. They trekked briskly down the mountain, making excellent time. By sundown they were almost back to Kirkwall, setting themselves up for a return late in the morning.

It was extremely awkward, and tense, setting up camp with just Anders and Fenris. Aria just wished Anders would make up his damn mind. Time and time again, he had denied her, saying it was his final choice. Time and time again he found a way to put himself back into contention for her affections. While she no doubt found him attractive and she indeed did have feelings for him, her thoughts shifted back to the first time she'd given Fenris reading lessons. That kiss was all she had needed to cement her crazily rampant emotions. She would never turn Anders completely away, but when it came to the realm of her heart, she could admit, if only to herself and no one else, that Fenris reigned as king.

Anders started the cook fire and Fenris went down to the river near camp to fish. Aria settled herself on her bed roll and snagged a book from her pack. It was a compilation of Varric's short stories, many of them starring Hawke from her days in Athenril's service. Others starred Anders in the Deep Roads as a warden, Fenris as a fugitive on the run, and Varric himself as a professional younger brother to a tyrant elder brother.

"What is that?" Fenris's voice issued from the twilight next to her, low and defensive.

Aria jumped slightly, startled, and nearly dropped the small book. She regained her composure quickly, turned down the corner of the page she was on, then crisply closed it. She proffered it to Fenris, who took it and perused the cover.

"Don't bother, I don't think he can read that level yet," Anders sniped from his position near the fire, turning the makeshift spit he'd created to cook the fish Fenris brought back from the river.

"Proves what you know," Fenris growled, not rising to the bait Anders set. "I wonder if Varric has the new guard quarterly out. I've been waiting."

"Don't let Aveline hear you say that," Merrill's voice came from behind them. Aria stood and faced her.

"Look who's returned," Fenris rasped, distastefully eying the other elf.

Aria elbowed him rather ineffectually in the ribs. He glared at her but said nothing. "Care for some river trout?" Aria asked her, indicating the cook fire with a wave of her hand.

"Yes please," Merrill politely said, dropping her pack next to Aria's. "I realized I was leaving you to deal with these two, and that was selfish. And no, I don't want to talk about anything, if that's all right with you."

Aria just nodded, ignoring the color she could feel coming into her ears and cheeks, and settled herself back down on her makeshift bed, using a log for a back rest. Fenris handed her the small book and sat next to her, his eyes on the book.

"Songs of Glory," Fenris said slowly, reading the title embossed in gold on the cover of the book.

"A collection of embellishments by Varric Tethras," Aria laughed, handing the book back to Fenris. "Show me what you've got."

Fenris took the book and opened it to the first story. He began to read quietly aloud. Aria listened to him read, helping him when he struggled with a word. Anders and Merrill silently listened along, Merrill nodded when Fenris mastered difficult words on his own. Anders's face was stoic, his eyes faraway and angry.

Fenris finished reading the tale of Varric's tricky scuffle with a dwarf in the merchant guild, then handed the book back to Aria. She stowed it in her pack. Anders put the fire out and settled his bed roll next to Merrill's. He said nothing as he laid down, turned his back to them, and presumably went to sleep. Aria laid down, using her pack as a pillow, and looked up at the stars. Merrill snored softly next to her, having been lured into sleep by the soft, deep tones of Fenris's reading. Fenris remained seated on his own bedroll, also contemplating the skies.

"This close to Kirkwall, we shouldn't need watches," Aria softly said to the warrior elf.

Fenris turned his head toward her, his kelly green eyes somehow managing to catch the light of the stars. He regarded her for a moment in studious silence, then turned his eyes back to the sky.

Aria sighed and turned onto her side, facing away from him. She closed her eyes and listened to the song of the night winds as it trickled through the trees. A few moments later, she heard Fenris shift, his armour clinking softly as he moved to lay down. Aria held her breath when she felt his hand smooth down her arm, resting when it reached her hip. She turned her head slightly to look out the corner of her eye at him. She couldn't fully read the expression on his sternly handsome face, so she rolled onto her back once more. His hand slid from her hip to her belly in the process, his touch sending her heart skittering.

Wordlessly, he lowered his lips to hers, allowing only a brief exchange before pulling away to look down into her eyes. His hand moved to cup her chin and he lowered his lips to hers again, this time he allowed his tongue to slip over her bottom lip to tangle with hers.

Far too quickly, he retreated again, only to lie next to her. He faced her, his expression unfathomable. "Sleep," he whispered then as he pulled her utilitarian blanket up over her shoulders.

Aria reached up to touch his face, a slight smile played at her lips. She sighed and let her hand slip away, then closed her eyes. Here in the wilderness, they didn't have to operate under false pretenses. They didn't have to worry about the shallow-minded disapproval of noblemen and poor folk alike. Here, they could just... Be.

….

Dawn had just broken when Aria woke. Fenris laid next to her, an arm draped protectively over her hip. Merrill still snored. Anders sat on a log on the other side of the doused cook fire, glaring at Fenris's sleeping form. Aria gently moved his arm and inched her way out of her bedroll. She carefully ignored Anders's gaze as she re-donned her armour.

"So, he doesn't spend the night at your estate," Anders venomously whispered from behind her.

Aria rounded on him, instinctively drawing a dagger. She held it to his throat before she could rein in her battle instincts. She immediately dropped it when she realized how close she came to threatening his life. The look of hurt in his eyes was more than she could take.

"He hasn't, no," Aria tersely quipped as she retrieved the dagger from the dirt and sheathed it on her back once more.

"And yet every time we've gone on the road since after the Deep Roads, you sleep either in his embrace or close enough to touch him. You...love him," Anders whispered.

Aria didn't reply. She set about breaking camp, ignoring the help Anders offered. Fenris woke shortly after the scuffle. Merrill took more effort to wake. The sun was just above the highest point of the treeline when they set off for Kirkwall again.

They didn't go far, however. They were stopped by Tevinters; slave hunters who had come for Fenris at Danarius's bidding. The four companions circled up, ready to deal with this new threat.

"You're in possession of stolen property!" One of the mages accompanying the hired thugs called out from a safe vantage on a rock formation just above them.

"Fenris is a free man!" Aria yelled back as she drew her daggers and swirled them in lethal agitation.

"I told you he would not relent," Fenris venomously stated from next to her. His eyes darted to all the aggressors lining up to challenge them. "I am not a slave!" White light exploded from the markings all over Fenris's body. It was terrifyingly beautiful to witness.

"Hand him over nicely, and we'll spare you lot," another man next to the mage said from off to her left.

"Over my dead body," Aria spat, whipping a dagger at his skull. It buried itself to the hilt in one of his eye sockets, a trademark move of hers.

A nasty battle ensued as the four travelers went head-to-head with the complement of Tevinter slavers. It was well past noon when they finally won the skirmish. Aria sustained numerous injuries, though none were serious. Anders silently healed them all, his gaze kept carefully neutral.

Fenris cornered one of the mages, who had luckily only been knocked out by one of Merrill's spells. He pinned the man on the ground, smashing the mage's head viciously onto the stony ground.

"Where is he?" Fenris demanded.

"I don't know, I swear!" the mage pleaded and blood poured out of his nose. He bled profusely from a cut above his eyebrow as well..

Fenris slammed the mage's head again, hard enough that they all winced in sympathy. "Tell me!"

"I don't know! I came with Hadriana! She's...in the holding caves, nearby. I can lead you to them-"

"No need," Fenris snarled. "I know of the place you speak."

"Please, let me go," the mage begged.

Whatever mercy Fenris might have possessed was not present today. Aria watched in stunned silence as Fenris deftly snapped the mage's neck. He returned to her side, his eyes surveyed the rocky outcrops around them for more threats.

"Hadriana..." he spat, the name a putrid curse on his tongue.

"Who is that?" Aria bluntly asked.

"Danarius's apprentice. She used to deny my meals, hound my sleep... All because she knew I was powerless to stop her."

"You were," Aria gently interjected. "We're not in Tevinter anymore."

"We must go to the holding caves. Now. I know a quick way there," Fenris feverishly stated. He trotted back up the path on which they'd just spent 4 days.

"Maker save me," Aria whispered under her breath. "You're going to be the death of me."


	27. Chapter TWENTY-SIX

**A/N: **_Just a little spoiler... This chapter is the first reason this story is rated M. ;) Enjoy..._

**Chapter 26**

They trekked up the path and headed toward the Wounded Coast, Fenris keeping a blistering pace in his hate-fueled haste. When they ran into resistance about a quarter mile from the holding cave, Aria was all but drained. She was using vials of stamina potion at an alarming rate. They fought two more mages and about 20 armed guards before they finally reached the mouth of the cave. It was early evening then, but at least the holding caves were only about a 2 hour hike from Kirkwall. Aria was bound and determined to eat a delicious meal, take a long, luxurious, hot bath, and sleep in her own bed tonight, Maker damn the consequences.

"We must be careful," Fenris barked as they stopped at the mouth of the cave, after they slew Hadriana's outer defenses. "There were many such holdings once, especially in the mountains, where individual slavers kept private pens. They were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt it's why Hadriana chose this place."

"This is a common thing? Slavers preying on each other, I mean," Aria asked, looking down the ominous mouth of the cave.

"They did. What better way to find slaves, than to steal them?" Fenris seethed. "The holdings outside Tevinter have mostly been abandoned. But they still exist."

Aria turned to Merrill and Anders, who looked dead on their feet. Merrill perked up when Hawke's gaze fell upon her and she nodded her consent to follow. Anders inclined his head politely, snatching a mana vial from his own belt and downing it. Aria turned back to Fenris, whose intense gaze studied her.

"Well, let's go introduce ourselves, hmm? I'm sleeping in my own bed tonight, Void take whosoever gets in my way," she chimed with a naturally lethal twirl of her daggers.

"Let's hope this isn't a waste of time," Fenris rasped, leading the way into the cavern.

The party quickly ascended into the dwarven-made tunnels. On each side of the robustly constructed halls were empty cells. Between the walkway and the cells flowed twin rivers of molten lava. Aria's skin prickled under her armour and sweat began to drip down the back of her neck.

Fenris knelt down, inspecting scuff marks in the thick layer of dust that covered the floors. "They're still here. Good."

"Well, I'm sure they wouldn't want us to keep them in suspense," Aria deadpanned as she looked around them, searching for traps or other potential threats.

When she was certain they were safe for the moment, they pressed on. They entered a recently vacated common room and found an altar at its center. Upon the alter lay the corpse of what could have only been an elven slave, bled dry to fuel his cruel master's demand for power.

"See for yourself: The legacy of the magisters," Fenris venomously stated as they reached the altar.

Aria was horrified at the sight before her. Deep cuts rent the elf's skin from his wrists to his elbows, from his knees to his hips, and one went from ear to ear. He had been fastened down by thick leather bindings and the stone beneath him was red with blood; his sacrifice had been extremely recent.

"They would do this? Unwillingly?" Merrill asked, aghast at the horrific scene before them.

"You're not far from it yourself," Fenris sneered. "The magisters will do anything to justify their need for power."

"There is no excuse for blood magic," Anders softly stated as they pressed on in search of Hadriana.

Thankfully, Fenris was too preoccupied with his search for the magister to honor that statement with one of his trademark magic-hating rants. Aria's fault was that she could see both sides of the argument objectively. Still, the presence of blood magic was evidence of a fatal breach of the law. Bleeding slaves dry for the power their life's force contained was unforgivable.

The reached a hall of sorts, with high, arched ceilings. Shades and reanimated corpses attacked them in force, outnumbering them four to one at first. Aria methodically dispatched of what enemies she could, employing her miasmic flasks to momentarily stun them while Fenris swung wide, lethal arcs with his enormous great sword. Merrill cast debilitating spells while Anders employed his knowledge of fire and ice in destroying their enemies.

They came out of the battle no worse for wear. Hadriana's control of magic was amazingly weak, for a mage of her apparent stature. Aria had no doubt that Bethany or Anders could have easily dispatched of her without blood magic ever crossing their minds. Merrill... Was quickly becoming a lost cause.

Once the hall was clear of Hadriana's conjured puppets, they found an elven servant girl cowering in a corner to escape the heat of the battle. She accepted the hand Hawke offered her and stood unsteadily before them.

"Are you hurt? Did they touch you?" Fenris immediately asked her, his eyes assessing her condition. Anders also conducted an appraisal, his healing white light bathing her momentarily.

The girl's eyes were wide with fear-driven hysteria. "They've been killing everyone!" she gushed, her voice trembling in grief and terror. "They cut Papa, bled him!"

Fenris and Aria exchanged a sadly knowing glance. "Why? Why would they do this?" Fenris queried in horror, though he already knew the answer.

"The magister! She said she needed power, that someone was coming to kill her," the servant continued, her eyes darting around the room like a rabbit avoiding an eagle's talons.

Fenris looked sadly at his feet, his head bowing slightly. The servant girl continued.

"We tried to be good. We did everything we were told! She loved Papa's soup. I don't understand," she relayed, tears in her overly large, jewel-like eyes.

"Is the magister still here?" Aria interjected then, her own hatred for Hadriana growing exponentially with every word the servant girl said.

"I—think so," the girl sniffled, looking around again, as though the very shadows would attack her. "The magister said that they were to prepare for battle. I think she's very frightened. "

"She has every reason to be," Fenris snarled.

"Please don't hurt her," the girl begged, the terror in her eyes breaking Aria's heart. "She'll be so angry if you hurt her!"

"You're just a slave to them, property to be used," Aria gently spoke.

"Everything was fine until today!" the elven servant defended.

"It wasn't," Fenris said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. He hung his head sadly. "You just didn't know any better."

The girl took a hasty step towards Fenris, her gaze innocent and lost. "Are you my master now?"

"No!" Fenris replied, his arms going out as if to stay her. He took a step back from her, revulsion sending a shudder through his body.

"But, I can cook. I can clean. What else will I do?" she pleaded with him, her voice breaking slightly.

"If you go to Kirkwall, I can help you," Aria came to Fenris's rescue.

"Yes? Oh praise the Maker! Thank you!" the girl said before running off toward the exit they'd just cleared.

Fenris rounded on Aria, his eyes spitting acid-laced green darts. "I didn't realize you were in the market for a slave!"

Aria's own fury radiated from her body as she faced him. But then, she realized that he wasn't understanding. How could he? All he knew was that the wealthy preyed on the poor. That humans, mages, all used his people like oxen.

"I gave her a job, Fenris," she gently said, holding her hand out in a placating gesture, palm towards him.

"Ah... Then, that's good," he sternly replied, though it was an awkwardly delivered statement. "My apologies," he said with a slight bow. "Let's find Hadriana, and be done with this place."

Aria followed him as he stalked off in the only direction they could go at this point. They entered the hallway at the far end of the room and fought through yet more shades and corpses protecting their feeble master until they reached yet another room. Hadriana stood at the opposite end, a small army of her demonic minions around her.

"You've made a terrible mistake coming here!" she screamed as she saw Fenris. She was a small woman, slight in build. She had long, dark hair that looked as though it hadn't been brushed in days. Her skin was pallid and nearly translucent. Dark circles appeared as stains under her vivid blue eyes.

"Not as much as you have, witch!" Fenris retorted, cleaving the head of a shade that attacked him in that moment.

Aria launched into battle, along with the rest of their party. The magister sent wave after wave of shades and undead at them. Aria fought with renewed vigor, feeling that finally she could help free Fenris from the shackles his old life still had on him. If he killed Hadriana, perhaps Danarius would relent and finally let the elf be free.

The battle raged on, Hadriana weakening exponentially in their relentless onslaught. Fenris was a whirlwind of destruction, his lyrium brands glowing constantly as he dispatched of every foe she sent his way with reckless ease. Soon, they had her in a corner, drained of her mana, and but inches from death.

Fenris stood over her, kicking her staff from her reach. He brought his sword over his head, but Hadriana spoke.

"Stop! You do not want me dead!" she pleaded, her breath coming in halted gasps.

"There is only one person I want dead more," Fenris snapped. But he stayed his weapon for the moment.

"I have information, elf," Hadriana gushed. "And I will trade it in return for my life."

"Pah! The location of Danarius?" Fenris scoffed. "What good would that do me? I'd rather he lose his pet pupil."

"You have a sister," she continued frantically. "She is alive."

Fenris nearly dropped his sword and a look of hope mixed with fear stole across his visage. Hadriana saw this as a victory and sat up, her eyes darting toward her staff for a just a second.

"You wish to reclaim your life?" she breathlessly asked, unsteadily getting to her feet to stand before him. "Let me go, and I will tell you where she is," she pleaded once more.

Fenris sheathed his great sword on his back and studied her, then looked to Aria.

"This is your call," Aria answered the question in his gaze.

He approached her and she fell to her knees before him. His movements were slow and steady, calming. He bent down to bring himself to her level and looked into her eyes.

"So I have your word?" Hadriana queried hopefully. "If I tell you, you'll let me go?"

"Yes," Fenris snapped, eying her as a wolf eyed wounded potential quarry. "You have my word."

"Her name is Varania. She is in Qarinus, serving a magister by the name of Ahriman," Hadriana gushed, eager to hold Fenris to his word.

"A servant," Fenris mused, inching closer to the magister. "Not a slave."

"She's not a slave," Hadriana confirmed for him as Fenris's lyrium brandings flared and he was cast in a blue-white halo.

"I believe you," he said, and she looked up hopefully at him. But then, he plunged his hand into her chest. He crushed her heart right then and there and let her lifeless body fall gracelessly to the stone. "We're done here," he spat. He turned and stalked past Aria, but she sought to waylay him.

"Fenris... Are you alright?" Aria asked, currently at a loss for any other words.

"I don't want to talk about it!" Fenris raged, spinning to face her. He loomed over her for a breath, then backed away, violently gesturing with his hands in the air. "This could be a trap! Danarius could have sent Hadrian here to tell me about this 'sister'. Even if he didn't, trying to find her would still be suicide! Danarius has to know about her, has to know that Hadriana knows," he said, his voice growing more venomous and bitter as he spoke, until it was a soft, rage-filled snarl. "But all that matters is that I finally got to crush this bitch's heart." He turned from Aria as he continued, "May she rot, and all the other mages with her."

Aria lay a placating hand on his shoulder, mindful of the spikes his armor possessed at that juncture. "Maybe...we should leave," she softly said, trying to turn him to face her.

"Don't comfort me," he snarled, stepping lithely away from her touch, avoiding her gaze by employing the long bangs that framed his angular face. Fenris whirled to face her, pointing at her in silent accusation for a second. "You saw what was done here. There's always going to be some reason, some excuse why mages need to do this. Even if I found my sister, who knows what the magisters have done to her." He looked away then, shame and fury seizing his features. "What has magic touched that it doesn't spoil?" he snapped.

Fenris clapped his palm to his forehead and bowed his head for a second. "I...need to go." He stalked off and Aria gave him a lengthy head start.

Merrill and Anders were silent the entire way home, no doubt digesting what they'd seen. They jogged most of the way, making it back to Kirkwall just as the final rays of the sun sank beneath the horizon. Aria saw Merrill safely to her hovel in the alienage, and Anders disappeared as soon as they walked through the city gates.

Not quite ready to be home yet, Aria decided to confront Fenris at his mansion, as she was fairly certain that was where he'd be. When no one answered the door, she picked the front door's lock and let herself in. She thoroughly searched his entire home, but it looked as though no one had been there in days.

Finally admitting defeat, she wearily trudged across Hightown to her own estate. The lanterns and torches were all extinguished in the bed rooms. Everyone was asleep. She preferred it that way. After a journey like today, the last thing she wanted was to tell stories of how horrible her latest endeavor had turned out.

She slid her key noiselessly into the door and slowly unbolted the heavy lock. She deftly pulled it open and quickly slipped inside. She had hardly enough time to register the face that appeared in the wake of the door's opening before he retreated, granting her entrance and leaving her agape for the thousandth time at his lethal, powerful brand of grace. She reacted a split second later, realizing he'd closed the door and she now stood with her back against the wall. He pressed in on her, indomitable, possessed. One of her hands instinctively went to her hip, seeking the sheathed throwing knife that this time was not there. The other rested on his chest, as if to hold him off. But the tenseness of her muscles relaxed against the heat of his skin and the steady thud of his pulse there.

His unfathomably verdant eyes bored into hers through the reckless halo of his silvery hair, endowed by obsession. His gaze was searing her to the bone, leaving her to do naught but draw gasps of breath through her lips and struggle blindly to get a grip on her senses.

"I've been...thinking about this whole mess with Hadriana," he said suddenly, backing away from her. He lifted a hand to his face, his fingers covering his mouth in trepidation as he continued, "I took out my anger on you, undeservedly so. I was...not myself. I'm sorry."

Aria relaxed further and relief flooded her as she discerned that he was unharmed. She offered him a soft smile, then worry came over her again. "I went to your mansion when I returned to Kirkwall, but you were not there. I was...worried."

"I...needed to be alone," Fenris replied, his voice stern but gentle again, his features apologetic. "When I was still a slave, Hadriana was a torment."

"I could see that," Aria mused aloud for his benefit.

"The thought of her slipping out of my grasp now..." he said through gritted teeth, his eyes alight again with his hatred, "I couldn't let her go. I wanted to, but I couldn't."

Aria moved closer to him, her eyes on his, studying him. She could understand his actions, but it didn't mean she had to condone it. He gave his word. Having seen him go back on it in the same breath... It broke a sliver off of the rock of trust she had in him.

"Fenris, you gave her your word," Aria whispered, mentally preparing for the barrage he would launch in the wake of that statement.

"She had to die!" he roared, closing the distance completely between them. "This...hate. I thought I'd gotten away from it. But it dogs me no matter where I go. To feel it again after...after everything I've experienced with you..to know it was they who planted it inside me, it was too much to bear!" His visage softened, a hint of shame radiating from the way he held his head. "Bah!" he said, turning away. "But I didn't come here to burden you with this."

"It is a burden I would gladly bear, Fenris. You have to let go of this hatred, of the past. It's eating you alive."

He rounded on her then, slamming her into the wall and pinning her arms in front of her so that she could not unsheath one of her lethal daggers. Her hands were on his chest, his fingers ensnaring her wrists savagely.

"The return of this hatred just exacerbates everything else—I have done everything in my power to distract myself. But I find I can think of nothing else," Fenris fervently stated, his hands shifted gently to cover hers, which he guided to rest on his chest, pressing her palms against the armour he still wore. "You…haunt me."

Her amber eyes lifted drowsily to meet his deep, crystalline green gaze. "Fenris, I am here. Whenever and whatever you need," she managed, her voice uncharacteristically heavy with emotion though she spoke with subtle softness and unabashed earnestness.

Her eyes slammed closed and she gasped simultaneously as his lips collided with hers, blissfully brutal in this initial onslaught. Her arms ensnared his shoulders while his hands cupped her face. His body was hard against hers, crushing her to him as their mouths waged the most beautiful war against each other. He tore his lips from hers and planted white-hot, irresistibly enticing kisses along the column of her throat.

She moaned and spun, slamming him against the wall. In the brief moment before she launched her own assault on him, they exchanged a knowing glance that ignited her blood to a deafening inferno. His eyes were dark with his desire. His lips turned up on one side in a sexy, snide little smirk that made her all the more crazy for him. It was a look between them that simply said, "Now you're speaking my language."

His lips hotly claimed hers again, grunting as she shoved him against the wall. His arms went around her waist, crushing her to him even as she ground against him. Aria couldn't think when his lips touched hers. All she could do was react, and Maker help her, she'd do anything he asked of her right now.

So lost in the passionate exchange was she that she only noticed he cradled her in his arms when he'd begun ascending the stairs up to her chambers. She struggled a little, trying to get to her feet, but he only held her more tightly, his eyes seeking hers, his expression somewhat hurt. She ceased her struggles immediately when his countenance registered in her mind.

"Would you prefer it if I let you down?" he huskily whispered, his lips grazing hers as he continued towards her bed chamber.

She could only sigh. "Never let me go."

His pace quickened. Even as their lips met again, they were falling to the bed. His deft fingers made swift work of her armour, desperately seeking the pliable, soft skin beneath. She arched against his touch, yanking him down by the shoulders and renewing their feverish kiss exchange.

Maker, she could get lost in him. He stole all rationale, all the logic she knew in this world with the mere brush of his lips, movement of his hands, and heated glance. But tonight…mere promises were not enough for either of them. They were cashing in.

With renewed vigor, she plucked at the leather lacing that bound his armour to him. He propped himself above her, granting her easier access in removing his garments. She hastily peeled away the encumbering implements he wore , leaving the flimsy white undershirt as the only barrier to the treasure beneath. He sat back, straddling her hips and smiling devilishly. She watched as he slipped the garment off over his head. Her eyes clung haplessly to the steely contours of his body, marveling at the pure beauty of his movement, sinew sliding like a shallow river over a rocky bottom and laced with rivulets of silver.

He latched onto both of her hands, sliding them first up his chest, then back down his silken, firm abdominals until their fingers encountered his belt. She swallowed the hard lump in her throat that had risen as soon as her fingertips touched the rough leather. She slowly raised her eyes to meet his gaze.

"Aria," he sighed, guiding her fingers in undoing his belt. His actions finished the statement far better than any words could say.

She held his gaze as her fingers stopped fumbling and remembered the task at hand. In removing all his armour, all his protection, she realized that for both of them, this was symbolic; she was unbinding him from the chains of his past. She could be his savior. She could make him his own master. She could put an end to all the torture that haunted his gaze. She could be the one to wipe away those lines of worry, and replace them instead with ones of joy.

As she plied the leather binding apart, he shoved her back against the bed. He hovered over her, his eyes riveted on hers once more. She couldn't take the way he looked at her, green fire that stole her breath and made her skin ignite; her stomach somersaulted, her ears rang, and there was a deep ache coming in heated waves low in her abdomen. She wanted to be consumed by him, to consume him herself.

Taking a page from his book, she yanked him down to her and guided his hands in parting the half-unlaced blouse she wore under her armour. His hands were rough and warm, incredibly strong, and yet here, in this moment, they were unbelievably gentle. He sighed as she sat up a little, allowing him to free her arms from the offending garment.

As soon as her arms were liberated, he crushed her back to the bed, his lips taking hers. She couldn't help the moans that escaped her every time his skin encountered hers. His fingertips skimmed over her belly in lethargic, passionate patterns. Her hands caressed his back, fingernails lightly coursing from his shoulders to the small of his back. His tongue danced with hers, each further inciting the other.

After far too short of a time, he tore his lips from hers, kissing a trail from her mouth to her ear. His teeth gently seized her earlobe and he whispered, "You're mine."

Aria gasped as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her unlaced breeches, perpetually southward until he found the source of that dull, hot ache. He stroked the pain away, leaving in its wake exquisite bliss. He stopped after but a moment and stood at the side of the bed, motioning her to him.

She swiftly complied, scooting across the bed until she reached a sitting position in front of him. He guided her hands to the waistband of his pants once more, and she quickly took over. She deftly unlaced the fly. Every half second or so, her hand brushed the hardened evidence of his intent for her.

The soft black suede pants slipped down his sinewy, spry legs, revealing to her every naked inch of him. She sat forward, softly tracing the lyrium marks on his abdomen with the pads of her fingers. Where her fingertips met his lyrium-branded skin, it seemed to emanate a soft silvery light, like a moonlight off glass. It reminded her of the times they were on watch, and he'd called upon the lyrium in his skin to warm her. He ran his fingers through her hair as she explored him.

As Aria's excursions brought her to his chest, he gasped suddenly and brought her face to his sternum. His heart hammered wildly and he clung to her like a wet rag to skin. She held him as best she could, unable to get a read on his emotions without being able to gauge his facial expression. She thought he was hurt, but the way he held her told her that this was how she could ease it.

A brief moment passed and he released her, smoothing her hair away from her face as he drew her to lay facing him on the bed. His expression was of wonder, pain, and passion. He seemed as though he'd just taken a blow—but enjoyed it.

"Fenris?" Aria asked, touching his face.

His reply came in the form of yet more passionate liplock. His fingers worked at her brassiere's fasteners while he stole her sanity with his kisses. She buried her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, unable to satiate her need to taste him.

She gasped when he abruptly ended the kisses and met her eyes. His hand rested on her hip, thumb hooked in the belt buckle of her breeches. He tentatively tugged the fabric down, his dark emerald eyes pleading and yet commanding her. She lifted her buttocks, arching her back. He groaned and his eyes raked over her in this brief pose, committing each detail to perfect memory. He hastily tugged her underwear down her legs and tossed it haphazardly across the room. She wondered for a fraction of a second what became of the brassiere, but found herself distracted by the thrill of his fingers moving ever so lightly up her thigh.

He chuckled as he watched the gooseflesh creep over her. "Are you cold?"

She laughed airily and regarded him with a seductive, flirtatious grin. "If I was, what would you do about it?" she countered playfully.

"This," he murmured, yanking the covers out from under them and letting the down comforter fall over top of them.

"Fenris—" she giggled, which turned to a soft moan as he crushed her to him once more, their naked bodies colliding and entangling.

He kissed her, teasing and light, his tongue darting playfully at hers then retreating. His hands grasped her hips, pressuring her against him as he moved to be above her. His eyes raked over her naked form, then settled on her face. She reached up and tucked a particularly long silvery lock behind his ear. He turned his head and kissed her wrist, his teeth lightly grazing the pulse point there.

"Such…enigmatic beauty," he murmured, letting one of his hands trail down her ribcage, up the curve of her bent leg, then inward to her inner thigh. He stroked soft, small circles there, edging closer to the throbbing heat at the apex of her thighs. He stopped the circles after a few intense moments, then smoothed his rough palm to her knee.

He gently drew her knees apart, moving so that his body rested between them. Her whole body was trembling, her eyes slipping down his chiseled, branded abdomen to his engorged, elven manhood. She watched, enchanted, as he moved his hips forward slowly, and using the free hand that wasn't holding her knee, he guided himself sweetly in.

She ground her teeth and fought the tortured moan that tore from her throat at the beautiful intrusion. Her hips bucked involuntarily against his and he collapsed forward onto her, his head resting on her chest. He kissed and gently massaged the firm, supple globes of flesh there, his tongue lapping at the crest of one of her breasts. He stayed there a moment, deeply embedded in her, seeking more pleasure from her womanly endowments.

His hips began to move after she bucked against him a few more times, his teeth having grazed the overly sensitized flesh of her nipples and forcing her body into blissful spasms. He moved slow and deep, drawing her legs around his waist as his mouth claimed hers once more. He softly groaned each time they came together, feeling her body tighten around him and loathe to let him leave.

Fenris pitched deeply into her a few more times before fully withdrawing and turning Aria on her side, so that she faced away from him. He lifted her top leg and angled his hips so that they were flush with her buttocks. He slowly pressed into her again and once inside, he lowered her leg in favor of cradling her to him.

He kissed the strange, scarlet Dalish ink tattoo of the hawk that adorned her back, just below her neck between her shoulder blades. It was the very brainchild of the design that she later had made into her own family crest. It fascinated him and he marveled for at least the hundredth time that she'd allow such marks to come to her body. He knew the pain acquiring the adornment entailed.

Aria was his puppet right now. She didn't think he knew it, but she was. She complied with his taciturn requests, communicated solely by his touch. She moaned softly as he entered her again, the steely hardness of him igniting her belly and shortening her breath. It was mad, wonderful, chaotic bliss.

His lips brushed her shoulder, her neck, her ear. His hand curled gently over her throat and he whispered soft foreign Tevinter phrases of what she could only guess were pleasure and flattery next to her ear. She noticed then a low pulsing light coming from the lyrium brandings in his arms.

Aria gently pushed herself away from him, turning so that she could see his face. She smiled at him, a tender expression, and moved back into the fold of his arms. She lifted a leg over his hip and he positioned himself so that she could guide him back into her.

He sighed and held her to him, letting her set up the pace, his eyes never leaving hers. He matched her movements, caressing her back, setting her skin ablaze anew with his touch. They continued thus, slow and erotic, lost in each other's gazes for a few moments. It was simple: They belonged together. He completed her. She'd had few men in her lifetime, but this… None had ever made her feel like this.

The dawning of this realization forced her to act. She pushed him so that she straddled his hips, her body above his, keeping him inside her. His hands flew to her hips, his fingertips staining her skin white with the pressure of his touch. She moved as his hands conducted her, hard, with ever more urgency.

When he was satisfied with the pace she kept, or when he could not hold onto her like this any longer—she couldn't tell, he pulled her down and rolled so that he was above her again. His chest crushed against hers, his breath was hot on her neck. She dragged her nails lightly down his back, her teeth gently grazing his shoulder with each of his powerful thrusts.

"You're mine," he whispered again as he drove into her, as if the words were a prayer that had been answered.

She noticed again the pulsing light within the lyrium scars down his arms and back. It flushed through him like wind swirling thick fog. She also noticed that the pulse was in time with his thrusts, with his thunderous heartbeat. He was…stunning. He was not of this world—he was a god.

"To have you look at me like this… I've dreamt of that look for months," Fenris murmured brokenly, having pulled away to look into her eyes.

"Fenris…," Aria breathlessly replied, unable to think anything else. She smoothed her hand along the perfectly chiseled line of his jaw, still watching the pulse of light breathing through his strange markings.

"Aria," he whispered, lowering his lips to stop a hair's breadth from hers. "You're beautiful."

He pushed more insistently within her and his mouth possessed hers once more. She couldn't tell where he began and she ended. She couldn't rationalize anything. All she knew was she had never felt this adored in her life. All she knew was that she never wanted this night, this moment to end. But something within him was changing and it brought the same change in her.

He drove hard into her, his breath ragged and his heart pounding. He kept murmuring things in his strange Tevinter tongue, his hands all over her, his mouth hot on her neck, her ear, her lips. She found herself gasping for air in the ardent maelstrom that swirled around them, clinging desperately to his body as if it were her one salvation.

The heat between her thighs erupted violently and white hot light of exquisitely painful release rent her psyche. Through the blinding haze, she felt Fenris slamming mercilessly into her and heard him issue an impassioned oath before he collapsed onto her. His body shuddered against hers for a moment, and then he was still. He gently caught one of her hands in his, their fingers twining together as if their very souls were joining.

She couldn't move even if she had wanted to. Fenris lay above her, his cheek against hers, his lips caressing her shoulder in silent prayers. She smoothed a hand through his tousled, reckless, silken hair while her other hand was caught in an intimate embrace with one of his. She was sore where he still rested inside her, but she wouldn't have done anything to stop the pain. It was perfect. He…was perfect.


End file.
